


Teaching Bittle

by MapleleafCameo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Anxiety, First Kiss, Fluff, Kent is not nice, Kindergarten Teacher Bittle, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Jack, Parent-Child Relationship, Unbelivable Amounts of Fluff, at least at first, maybe later when he grows up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: Eric has just landed a terrific job as a Kindergarten teacher. His class loves him, his parent community think he's great, the staff is putting on weight eating his pies. Everything is great. And then Jack Zimmermann, legendary hockey player Jack Zimmermann, walks in the school to register his daughter. What could go wrong?





	1. New Beginings

**Author's Note:**

> So this came about after a few random tweets about how cute Bitty would b as a Kindergarten teacher. I decided to set this in Canada, simply because I am more familiar with the teaching system here and why not. More scope for fish out of water Bitty. I have taken liberties because that is what one does in a work of fiction. It is highly unlikely that Eric would have been hired so quickly to teach without a lot of experience or without being an Occasional Teacher for a while. It is a long involved process, but what is the fun in reading that? Although I have notes and a general outline this is a WIP. Lots of stuff on my plate-lots of writing to do & RL is getting busy, but I hope to have the next chapter up in a week or so:) Thank you for your patience:D
> 
> All the blessing on [Ngozi](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com) for her wonderful characters in the webcomic [Check, Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com)

_Back To School_

_Today I hurry off to school,_  
_To work and learn and play._  
_I'm in a brand new grade this year._  
_What a happy day!_

 

“Well, Mr. Bittle, I must say I am impressed so far with your knowledge of our area and the policies of our school board as well as the research you have completed on Canadian customs. I just have one final question.”

 

With a mental eye roll, Eric sat up straighter. His back ached a bit from sitting so stiffly. Steeling himself, he waited for the question he had been asked once or twice in past interviews, despite the fact it was technically inappropriate. And illegal. Technically. At least in Ontario. Some felt asking him what he, as a man, could bring to a Kindergarten or first grade was allowable simply on the grounds it made people uncomfortable having a male working with small children. What a sad state of affairs. Understandable in the grand scheme of things, but sad nonetheless. But he had studied the anti-discrimination laws. They had solidified his desire to work here.

 

“Mr. Bittle, what advantage do you see, bringing them into the classroom setting, your knowledge of baking and technology, in particular, social media?”

 

Eric blinked. He thought for a moment, his mind a bit scrambled. A fair question, seeing as he had included those items on his resume, just not the one expected.

 

“I think, first of all, concerning the baking, I can show young children how important life skills are. I know it isn’t something that's taught until the older grades, but everyone should be aware of a few basics. From my experience, children are interested in baking and cooking. They are fascinated to see where food comes from. Also, I believe in exposing young children to many different activities and skills, like baking or rock collecting or perhaps even sewing, although I, personally, don’t have those particular talents.” He smiled, nervous now and kicking himself for bringing up something he didn’t know how to do. “How will they know what might interest them if they don’t have a chance to try? Many families these days are busy with work and extra activities, after school sports, so may not have the time or the talent to teach their children these things. What many people often forget is that baking contains within it elements of science, math, and art. Baking is an essential part of a developing life.”

 

He paused a moment and thought about his next answer. “As for technology, so many children are exposed to it, but perhaps not show how to use it wisely. I feel it’s in a lot of homes these days, but perhaps it isn’t always directed in an educational manner. I would teach Internet safety first and foremost, but I would also be able to show children how to connect to the world. I think that is where technology has its best use, talking with other students in different communities. Using Skype to speak to a zoologist in a zoo to ask about polar bears or chatting with children in a different school here in this area or another country. I think I would want to set up a classroom blog to show parents just what we get up to during the day. Many parents will ask a child ‘what did you do today?’ often get a response of ‘nothing’ or ‘I don’t know.' It could show them exactly what a child has worked on in class. I think it would fit nicely with your full day program. Many children like taking pictures and I would have them be in charge of what we could post, with direction of course. I have a plan in mind to let a different child each day write a small post. I would then supplement with an added edit, translating if you will, what exactly the child has written. I think this would be a lovely connection for a child and their family. The program I have in mind has ways of only allowing the parent to see the content, so no one else has access to a child’s post or pictures unless the parent shares the password.”

 

He stopped and took a deep breath. And smiled, although it felt like a shaky smile. Lord, he was nervous.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Bittle. We have several more applicants to interview, but we will be in touch in a few days. By Friday at the latest. And thank you so much for bringing in the tarts. I can honestly say this is a first! But it does show off your excellent baking skills.” Ms. Alice Atley, the Superintendent of Personal, stood and held out her hand. Eric stood and shook it as well as that of the two Principals who had also sat in on the interview, a Ms. Eileen Richards and a Mr. C. Hall.

 

oOo

 

“Hi, Mother! Start packing up the rest of my stuff! I got the job!”

 

“Oh, Dicky! I am so proud! When do you start? What class did you get? What school? Oh, it’s so far away!”

 

“Fortunately I don’t start for a few weeks. I was able to get a Kindergarten class in a school out in the countryside, Samwell Public. The principal sat in on the interview. Principal Hall. He’s very excited to have me teach. Talked about the decline of men in teaching, particularly in younger grades.”

 

“Oh my goodness!”

 

“He’s great! What was he said? Let me see if I can remember and get this right. He told the Superintendent he wants to ‘break the stereotypes that enclose the school system, shake it up and hire a divergent cast of teachers.' Not that he gets a lot of say, but he can make suggestions, I guess. I laughed when he told me that. But he certainly has a great staff. Lots of young teachers mixed in with some older types, which is nice. Helps with answering questions about stuff I don’t even know I don’t know yet.”

 

“Well, I am so happy for you. Will you come home for a bit or am I expected to haul all your stuff up there myself?” Suzanne teased gently.

 

“Mother! Of course! I’ll be home on Wednesday. I have a date with a realtor to find either an apartment or a small house to rent. There’s a few apartment type places in the smaller towns near the school but most places are in older houses or farms.”

 

“I’ll come back with you for a week and help you get settled! Oh, Dicky! This is such a big move! Are you sure?”

 

Eric rolled his eyes. He loved his mother, and he did understand her nervousness, but this is where the job was, and this is where he came to stay.

 

“Mama,” he said. “You know this was the plan. What’s the point of living out my existence in small town America when I can explore the world! Live here for a few years and maybe go somewhere else. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

 

After hanging up, Eric wrapped his arms around himself and then jumped a little in the air.

 

He picked up his phone, opened Twitter and sent out his first tweet as an employed teacher.

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle:** Thank you  **@GreatLakesDSB** for the opportunity to work with you **@SamwellDPS**! Looking forward to new beginnings.＼(^ω^＼)


	2. Speckled Frogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again basing this off of what I know, Bitty's teaching a combined Kindergarten of 22 students, both Junior (of which there are 11) and Senior (same). There are 12 boys and 10 girls and are of mixed ethnic backgrounds. The Senior students would have been in the same class last year as Juniors but with a different teacher. The school is located just outside the nearby town and is on a fairly large piece of property, surrounded by trees, with a small lake and frog ponds as well as nature trails. In Ontario, students can start Junior Kindergarten at 3 years of age as long as they are turning 4 by the end of the year. I once taught a child who was born on Dec 31st at 11:50 pm. It can make for some very young students. Many of the stories I will be sharing about the children will be loosely based on personal experience. I tried to pick names of kids that were very different from kids I have taught but it's hard after 25 years of teaching to come up with new names XD All books, songs and poems are ones I have used.  
> If you have any questions or I have missed explaining something, feel free to ask.

_Five green speckled frogs sat on a speckled log_  
_Eating some most delicious bugs. Yum! Yum!_  
_One jumped into the pool_  
_Where it was nice and cool_  
_Then there were four green speckled frogs_

_Raffi_

His name changed the very first day of school. The four Kindergarten classes at Samwell District Public School held an Open House. Parents could come and go, visiting the classroom with their offspring, meet their teachers, signup for volunteer programs and so on. Eric set out a sheet for parents to choose ingredients they could send in so the class could make a Friendship Fruit Salad. He had put up a graph on the big white board labelled Choose The Name for Our Class Blog! The children, their names on magnetic, laminated cards, could pick between Speckled Frogs, Striped Caterpillars or Squeaky Spiders. So far Speckled Frogs was in the lead. There was a sheet for parents to provide an email address for both the blog and the class newsletters and an option for paper copies, too, for families without access to Wi-Fi or a computer.

 

Most parents greeted Eric with smiles and shook his hand. Word travelled quickly in the community that there would be a male Kindergarten teacher and most seemed accepting. A few looked a bit trepidatious, but Eric’s sunny disposition and pleasant manner put them at ease, and the fact that there was a female Early Childhood Educational worker in the class helped. Larissa Duan, while quiet, had an excellent handle on the children as they wandered the classroom trying out the various activities. She hung out at the paint centre, for the most part, praising the children’s Picasso-like efforts. Eric smiled at her, and she fist-bumped him at one point when he passed by.

 

Eric had just sat down on the floor with a little boy named Karl, helping him with the light table. One of the students came up to Eric and tapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Teacher!” she said.

 

“Hello! It’s Violette, right? I’m Mr. Bittle. What can I help you with?”

 

“Mr. Bitty, I have to go to the bathroom!”

 

Eric laughed and took the child by the hand to show her where the bathroom was, handily attached to the classroom. Her mother followed behind, also chuckling, a slightly embarrassed tone coloured the sound.

 

“I am so sorry about that!”

 

“Oh, Heaven’s no! She’s not wrong!” he laughed. “I’m short compared to some.”

 

And it seemed to stick. One of the other children overheard it and called him Mr. Bitty as well, and before the end of the day, that was it. Eric mentally sighed but didn’t have the heart to correct them after the first twenty times. Mr. Bitty stuck and held for the rest of the year.

 

Later, after the parents and children had left for the day with the promise of Eric posting the recipe for his mini-pies on the blog when he set it up (“They keep calling them tarts! They aren’t tarts!”), he and Larissa tidied up the classroom and set out the activities for the first full day of school tomorrow.

 

“Hey, Eric? Do you like bowling?”

 

“Yes, I do. Why?” He stopped straightening the crayon bin on the worktable and looked up.

 

“Bunch of us are getting together Friday after school to go bowling. It’s tradition, celebrate surviving the first week.”

 

“Oh, that would be great! What time and where?”

 

“Four o’clock at Jerry’s, edge of town. They make the best nachos. And we kick the high school teacher butts every year.”

 

Eric did survive that first week. It was a near thing. Even though he had cut and photocopied and laminated and glued and coloured and prepared and written up a week’s worth of lesson plans and activities, there will never be a way that will ever be humanly possible to get ready for twenty-two small children between the ages of three and five.

 

“Marty, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” _For the fifth time today._

 

“D’ere’s bug!”

 

“A bug?”

 

“Dere’s bug! Bug!” and Marty wailed harder. Eric looked all around where Marty was currently sitting on the floor next to the sand table and could not see anything resembling a bug. Marty began entering the shoulder heaving state of crying, and Eric wasn’t sure how that much liquid could possibly come out of anyone that small. Finally, way under the table, Eric spotted a little raisin, probably left over from snack earlier. He picked it up and held it out to show Marty.

 

“Looky, sweetie, see? It’s just a raisin.”

 

Marty, hiccupping slightly, leaned over to look at the raisin, scrunched up his face and cried harder. “BUG!” he shouted and buried his face in Eric’s shoulder. Eric signalled to Larissa who walked over, took the raisin from Eric’s hand and crossed the room to throw it in the garbage can by the door.

 

“It’s all gone, Marty. No more bug.”

 

“No bug?”

 

“No.” Marty looked at Eric’s hand, nodded, satisfied. Finding some nearby tissue, Eric wiped Marty’s face, helped him blow his nose and led him to the water fountain. Rubbing the back of his hand across his face, Marty went back to the sand table. Eric grabbed a few paper towels and sponged at the slightly slimy trail currently decorating his shoulder. After depositing the paper towel in the garbage can, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A disturbance in the Force caught his attention.

 

“No! Mine!”

 

“I had it first!”

 

“It’s mine!”

 

There was the sound of a smack and another child’s voice rose up in a yowl.

 

“What is going on here?” Eric asked in what he hoped was a calm but take-no-prisoners voice. There would be no hitting in his class.

 

Both children started at once, arguing over a sparkly pink crayon.

 

“She took it!”

 

“I had it first!”

 

“Did not!”

 

“Did so!”

 

“Did not!”

 

“Hold it! Stop right now. Look at me.” Eric crouched down in front of two of the three Carlys in the class, all turning out to be ‘interesting characters,' all various spellings of the same name and all promising, as Larissa would point out by the end of the second week, to be potential ‘Heathers.' “Now Karlie A, you start. What happened?”

 

Several million questions later, Eric seemed to have put a halt to the hitting, had the children apologize but told them their parents would be informed, and Carlee J would have to walk with Eric at recess because she’d hit Karlie A.

 

Later, at recess, Eric walked around the Primary Yard and observed the goings on of the children from Kindergarten to Grade 2. He stopped a group from climbing the trees near the back and then later asked that same group to stop hiding in the bushes because he couldn’t see them. He pushed a few of the Kindergarten students from the other classes on the swings, he bandaged a torn hangnail and laced up three pairs of shoes. Carlee J prattled away beside him, telling him all about the new pool her parents had put in this summer and how she had been sent to her room for dumping the box of chlorine tablets in it and then another time had decided that she’d try putting dirt in so she could pretend that she was swimming in chocolate milk and how her mother had said that maybe they shouldn’t have put in a pool.

 

He was rounding the corner of the climber when he heard a voice, loud enough to strip paint, “Mr. Bitty, Karl said Fuck!” Eric sighed, put the hand that wasn’t holding Carlee J’s over his face, shook his head and marched over to the swings. “Karlee A, thank you for telling me, but perhaps next time you could say, ‘Karl said a bad word’ and maybe not yell it across the playground.”

 

“I did say Karl said a bad word. He said Fuck!”

 

At the end of the first day, backpacks all ready to go, children, tired but mostly happy, sat in front of Eric on the carpet. “Okay, Kindergarten, time for a story and then we’ll get ready to go home on the buses.” Eric opened up a book Larissa had recommended, called _In Kindergarten, We Share Everything_ by Robert Munsch. He was halfway through the story when he felt something touch his feet. He looked down and noticed Karl playing with the laces on his boots. “Karl, please don’t touch my feet. Thanks. Hands to yourself.” And read a bit more. He felt it again. “Karl, I’m sorry, but I don’t like people playing with my shoes. Thanks. Hands in your lap.”

 

Fiddle, fiddle fiddle. “Karl, let’s pretend I have a big bubble all around me so you can’t touch my feet, okay?”

 

Karl reached over with his finger and said, “Pop!” Eric sighed.

 

Rounding up the children after the story, Larissa pointed out a sleeping Marty on the carpet, and Eric gently shook him awake, picked him up and carried him over to the cubbies. He helped Marty change his shoes and put on his backpack. Fortunately, he would not be going on the bus tonight. His mom would be picking him up at the office for a dentist appointment, so Eric didn’t have to worry about Marty falling asleep and missing his stop. He could also chat briefly with Mom about setting up a time to get Marty’s speech assessed.

 

Once all the other children were placed on the correct bus, Eric walked Marty to the office, greeted his mom who was waiting and said. “Hi, Mrs. Markus. Eric Bittle, Marty’s teacher.”

 

“Yes, I remember. I did just meet you yesterday.” She pursed her lips and glanced at her watch, holding out her hand to take Marty.

 

“Oh, just wanted to let you know, Marty fell asleep right at the end of the day. I guess it’s pretty normal. First day of school and all, he was…”

 

“You guess? What do you mean you guess? And you let him fall asleep? Great! Thanks a lot! Now he won’t sleep at bedtime, and I will have to be up with him until at least ten. Maybe next time you can try not to let the children sleep at school. I thought you knew what you were doing!” She turned her back and hauled Marty out of the office. Eric hadn’t had a chance to mention speech therapy, and now he wasn’t sure he wanted ever to talk to that woman again.

 

Principal Hall, who’d just entered after bus duty, overheard Mrs. Marcus’s dressing down. He clapped Eric on the back after she was out of earshot. “It takes all kinds, Eric. Don’t take it to heart. You did nothing wrong.”

 

Eric nodded, a bit downhearted. It was going to be a long year.

 

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle:** Thank you KB, for a great 1st day of school. We are going to have an interesting year!╰( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・

 

By the end of a week of putting out small fires before they became raging infernos, Eric decided he could come in on Saturday to finish getting his daybook sorted and copying completed because he needed to get out of there and relax. He got into his little, pale blue car he’d named Alice, drove down the highway and through the town to the bowling alley. He parked in back as the front spots were already taken and walked in. A huge amount of noise, not unlike a school playground greeted him.

 

Larissa ran over, grabbed him by the hand and said, “You can rent shoes in a minute. Let me introduce you.”

 

She pulled him over to where a group of familiar faces from on staff were mixed with total strangers and went around, introducing everyone. “Okay, this is Eric Bittle, new teacher to our school and my teaching partner. Eric, you know Justin of course, best Grade 8 teacher ever, this is his husband, Adam. He teaches Media and Technology at the high school. That’s Ollie, Grade Nine and Ten math teacher, Wicks, Phys Ed, you know Chris Chow…”

 

“I am so happy you could come!”

 

“and his wife Caitlin Farmer, and March, she teaches English, and this is Shitty, Law and Humanities.”

 

“I’m sorry, did you say Shitty?”

 

“Brah! I have heard so much about you! Come’re.” Where everyone else had said ‘hi’ or waved, this Shitty person placed his arms around Eric and practically picked him up.

 

“Oh my goodness!”

 

“Just to put you at ease, ‘cause Brah! Your eyes are fucking big right now; the students do not address me as Shitty as much as I would let them, given the op. I am Mr. Knight to them, even though I feel that the use of formalities and archaic titles should be omitted in this day and age, at this time and in this location I am still required to be addressed by 'Mr.' I am currently looking into a genderless honorific but have not found one to my satisfaction.”

 

Eric nodded and smiled. Larissa patted him on the shoulder and whispered, “You’ll get used to it.”

 

“So, um. Shitty, you aren’t from around here, either, are you?”

 

“No, I hail from Boston, fellow American, crossing into the wilderness and grandeur that is Canada, True North, home of the Double Double, proud moose, and obnoxious geese.” Eric looked around at the flashing lights of the bowling alley, a puzzled look crossed his face. He nodded again, hoping he could start drinking soon and then maybe he’d get a better understanding of what Shitty was talking about.

 

Bowling was fun. Happy he’d decided to come, he felt the weight of the week slip off of his shoulders and got into the groove of bowling, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He came back from a nice spare and sat down swigging back the beer he’d left on the table. He glanced around content to find a group of people with whom he might have something in common.

 

“So, Shits, Adam was saying you’ve been in touch with Jack. How’s he doing?” Justin asked Shitty the question but watched Adam bowl a strike at the same time. He scowled, muttering, “I am so not watching _30 Rock_ for the fifth time if his team wins.”

 

Shitty’s mobile face stilled for a minute, a thoughtful expression crossed it. “Well, he’s okay, or as he’s gonna be for now. The divorce was hard and then Camillia death and then coupled with having to fight for custody and coming out, he decided that with last year’s injuries, he’d retire.”

 

“Oh man, that’s rough. Bastards. What’s he going to do?”

 

Shitty sucked a bit on the end of his truly magnificent mustache. “Yeah, I can’t say. I know but not at liberty. You’ll find out soon enough.”

 

Eric listened, wondering a bit whom they were talking about, but so not his business. Besides, after Larissa’s last turn they were ahead, and Justin jumped up, cheering. He must not like _30 Rock_ that much, Eric thought.

 

At the end of the evening, Eric said good night and headed home. He dropped his school bag on the couch, turned on his laptop and got a glass of water before sitting down.

 

He spent a few minutes typing up an outline for the first entry in the classroom blog. Rather pleased the class had chosen Speckled Frogs for their name, as the background wallpaper and headers with frogs he’d found were adorable.

 

_Dear Families,_

_Thank you for a lovely first week of school. The children are settling in and are learning to work together as a team. We will be reviewing classroom Rules and Routines for the next few weeks as well as learning to get to know one another. I will be sending out a list over the weekend outlining what day your child can bring in something from home they can show to tell the rest of the class about themselves. Some suggestions include a picture of their pet, a piece of equipment from a sport they enjoy, a favourite book or toy._

_Please read to your child the book I sent home in their messenger bags. Senior Kindergarten parents, have your child track the words with their finger as they read it back to you. Please let me know if they found the book too hard or too easy. I am still assessing their reading levels. Junior parents, read the book several times and help them find any sight words we studied this week. They are **a** , **the** and **and**. _

_In a few weeks, I will be sending information home regarding the school trip to the Harvest Family Farm. We will be picking pumpkins and trying apple cider. There’s a corn maze and some other fun activities._

 

Eric stopped typing, the two beers he’d had making him sleepy. He saved the draft and shut down the computer. Getting up from the desk, he made his way around the small apartment, checking windows, locking the door and turning off lights. He had been fortunate to find this lovely old farmhouse not far from the school. It had been renovated and now contained four apartments. His was the tiniest but being on the ground floor it had a beautiful porch off the back, which opened up onto a field of corn, last of the season. He had plans for decorating the porch over the weekend.

 

Changing into his sleep shirt, he shucked his pants and left his boxers on. He crawled into bed, the quilt his MeeMaw had made for what he’d laughingly called his ‘Hopeless Chest’, spread out on top. Before turning out the light, he checked his Twitter feed and the news. There seemed to be a lot of tweets about former hockey player Jack Zimmermann. He vaguely remembered hearing about what a great hockey player he was, how he’d become as big a legend as his father, Bad Bob Zimmermann, but had had a string of bad luck recently and retired sooner than expected due to injuries and some personal difficulties.

 

A few tweets caught his eye.

 

 **NHL@NHL:** We wish Jack Zimmermann @jlzimmermann best wishes in his future. You will be missed.

 

 **PVDFALCONERS@falconers:** Jack Zimmermann, former captain of Falconers, stands at center ice with his daughter, Olivia, as his number is retired.

 

That one was accompanied by a photograph of a man standing, holding the hand of a little girl, backs to the camera, both of them wearing white jerseys with a number 1 on the back and ‘Zimmermann’ as they both looked up while a banner with the same number and name rose above their heads.

 

He frowned as he thought back to the conversation he’d overheard at the bowling alley. The friend Shitty and Justin were talking about was a Jack and he’d said he had a little girl, something about retirement and injuries, but that must be a coincidence. Eric Bittle was not the sort of person who knew people who hung out with famous folks. Still, it would be something to be two degrees of separation from someone, although he’d rather it was Beyoncé. He snorted as he turned off his phone, ‘cause that would never happen. Not ever.

 

Tuckered out from a week of being run off his feet, he fell asleep. Morning would come soon enough, and the Lord knew he had a lot of things to accomplish.


	3. Fall

_Fall_  
_The leaves are yellow, red and brown,_  
_A shower sprinkles softly down_  
_And the air is fragrant, crisp and cool,_  
_And once again, I'm stuck in school._

_Jack Prelutsky_

“Okay. Bus is here, parents volunteers are here, students are here, except for Marty, everyone has tried going to the bathroom, and y'all have your backpacks!”

 

Eric sent the attendance off on his iPad, grabbed the first aid kit and led the way down the hall to the bus. It was a perfect fall day, cool and crisp with a hint of winter to come in the frost on the ground and the forlorn honking of geese on the wing heading south. A small part of him wished he was going with them. Winter would no doubt be a colder one than anything he’d experienced. Still, he felt invigorated by the beauty of the day and the excitement of his first field trip.

 

A quick count of heads and he told the bus driver they could go, when Truman’s mother stood, apologized to Eric and said, “I’m so sorry. He gets nervous on the bus. Do I have time to run him to the washroom one more time?”

 

Eric smiled brightly, groaned a bit internally and said, “Of course.”

 

At that moment, as Truman and his mother left the bus, Mrs. Marcus showed up with Marty. “What is going on? Why wasn’t I told the bus trip is today? I’m sure you said next week! It’s a good thing I had to drive Marty to school, or I wouldn't have known!”

 

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Marcus, but it was in the school newsletter and on the classroom blog. I also sent a reminder email last night to give everyone the heads up the weather would be perfect for today, and we wouldn't have to postpone. I’m so glad you and Marty were able to make it.”

 

Mrs. Marcus scowled. “I do not have time to read every email sent to me. I am a self-employed woman and very busy. I’m certain if you check your blog you will find that the date says next week.”

 

A mother at the front of the bus spoke up. “Gayle, sit down so we can get going. Do you really think we’re all here on the wrong day?”

 

Muttering to herself, Mrs. Marcus steered Marty to an empty seat, crossed her arms and refused to speak to anyone. Truman and his mother boarded the bus once more, and they were underway.

 

The day spent at the Harvest Family Farm was a hit. The kids ran riot through the corn maze, played in the corn box, picked out pumpkins, drank warmish apple cider, while the parents and teachers sipped hot. Eric also spent some time chasing Karl out from all of the restricted areas he’d managed to sneak into. Purchasing some pie pumpkins, Eric also bought a huge basket of apples. Mrs. Isozaki and Kameko also bought some apples and pears for the class. Eric thanked her. She smiled and asked if she could come in and volunteer the day he planned on making pie. “I would like to learn some traditional Canadian dishes for Thanksgiving.”

 

Eric laughed. “Me too! Although I suspect they’re not a lot different from where I grew up. I forget how fast Thanksgiving is coming up. I'm so used to having it in November! I need to plan something special for the class.”

 

“Oh, I would love to help! We could learn together.”

 

They ended the day with a hayride, the wagon drawn by horses instead of a tractor. Eric sat on the end, with Karl snuggled up by his side and pointed out all the interesting sights, trying to keep the busy child occupied. “Look over there Karl. You can see the windmills.”

 

“My daddy says they’re ugly fuckers and they need to go.”

 

Eric bent down a bit and whispered in his ear. “Karl, I have spoken to you about your language. Please stop using those words.” Time to call the parents, he thought.

 

Karl looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bitty.”

 

“I know you are, Karl. Perhaps we can come up with a different word to say instead. What about fudge?”

 

Looking thoughtful, Karl rolled the word around on his tongue. “I’ll try, but fuck is in my brain.”

 

Eric laughed, unable to help it but then said, “We’ll try together, okay?”

 

Karl smiled and then prattled along beside Eric about the fudge-fucking animals in the field and the goddamn fudge flying geese overhead. Eric sighed.

 

The trip home was uneventful. They arrived back at school in time to board the homeward-bound buses. Larissa checked to see which parents were taking their children home with them.

 

Mrs. Marcus said to her, just as sarcastic as she was with Eric, “Why would I send him home on the bus?” Larissa smiled tightly back at her.

 

“That woman is all kinds of obnoxious,” she said to Eric once Mrs. Marcus headed out of earshot.

 

“Bless her heart, ‘Ris. It takes all kinds.”

 

Taking his coat off, he searched for Karl’s parent's phone number and called them from the VP Murray’s office.

 

Mr. Fischer answered the phone. Eric explained why he’d called.

 

“Ah shit, Mr. Bittle. I’m so fucking sorry! I just don't know where the fuck he gets it? We’ll speak with Karl. ”

 

“Um, thank you, Mr. Fischer. Perhaps your family could try a swear jar? Or something? And then maybe use the money for a treat for the family or donate it to a charity?”

 

“Hmm. I hadn't thought of trying that! That’s a fucking good idea right there. We’ll give it a try. I’ll tell Karl no more goddamn swearing at school. Hopefully, he gets the message. Let me know how the fuck it goes, okay?”

 

“Sure, Mr. Fischer. Thank you.” He hung up the phone and laughed. It did indeed take all kinds.

 

Back in the classroom, he checked to see if everything was ready for tomorrow. He decided to put the cars away and bring out the farm set, thinking it would tie in nicely with today’s trip. Giving the pumpkins a final counted to make sure everyone had brought one back. He’d ask Justin if his class wanted to buddy up with them to decorate the pumpkins on Friday. Too bad they wouldn't last until Halloween.

 

There was a knock at the door. It was Principal Hall.

 

“How did the trip go?”

 

“We had a great day! Perfect weather and the kids had fun. I had to speak with Karl’s dad, though. I phoned him to tell him about Karl’s swearing.”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Marcus made a point of stopping by and informing me you laughed at his language.” He waved off Eric’s sputtering protests. “You’ve not done anything wrong. She’s a right pain in the ass. She wanted to know if she could have Marty moved to a different class. I told her you are an exemplary teacher, that the other classes are full and that Marty has formed an attachment. As much as I’d like to get her out of your hair, I said Marty wasn’t going to be moved. She stormed off. We’ll see what happens. Sorry, Eric.”

 

Eric sat down his eyes stung a bit. He hated when strong emotions made his eyes prick. “I love Marty. He’s such a cutie and a sweet little boy, just young. I don't understand what her problem is?” Eric wasn’t immune to the feeling most teachers have of wanting everyone, every child, every parent, to like them, even if it couldn’t possibly happen.

 

“Some people aren't happy no matter what. She'd give any of the teachers a hassle. You just happen to be the first teacher she’s dealt with as a parent, and she’s taking all of her insecurities and attitudes out on you. When it comes time for JK interviews, I will gladly sit in on Marty’s to make sure she doesn't run you over. We’ll keep an eye on things. Eric, Mrs. Marcus isn't the only reason I’m here. You’re getting a new student next week. Yours is the only class with room, and I think it will be a good fit for the child.”

 

“Oh?” Eric frowned, already mentally rearranging table seating and a list of items to get ready for a new student.

 

“Yes.” He checked his notes. “She’s in JK, and her name is Olivia Zimmermann.”

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle** : Thank you to the parents who volunteered for the trip to @HarvestFamilyFarms today. ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle:** We will be welcoming a new student on Monday. (￣▽￣)ノ

 

Eric sat on the couch in front of the muted TV, cutting out pumpkin shapes for the craft centre, when his phone chirped. Putting down his scissors, he untangled himself from the scraps of orange paper and reached for his phone on the small side table. The number was unfamiliar.

 

“Hello?”

 

A soft Irish accent greeted him. “Is this Eric Bittle?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Hello! It’s Helene Burk, Siobhan's mother.”

 

“Oh yes! Is everything all right with Siobhan?”

 

“Yes, she’s lovely, thanks. She adores you. It’s ‘Mr. Bitty this’ and ‘Mr. Bitty that’ and ‘Mr. Bitty says’ all day long.” She laughed. “That’s not why I rang. I’m on the parent's committee for the skating club.”

 

Eric’s heart thudded a bit.

 

“One of the members of the costume and decorating committee, Ms. Duan from your class, in fact, happened to mention you use to skate. Oh my goodness, Mr. Bittle, I looked you up! You were quite amazing.”

 

“Oh yes. Thanks,” he said, voice quiet, blood pounding in his ears. It wasn’t something he spoke about much but had mentioned in passing to Larissa, not thinking about it, not thinking almost every small town in Canada supported a hockey and figure skating program.

 

“I wouldn't ask, but it’s a bit of an emergency. Our figure skating coach had to leave town suddenly due to an illness in their family, and we were wondering if it would be possible for you to fill in until they get back? You wouldn't have to do much in the way of programming. We have all of their notes and schedules. It would just be temporary. We hate to lose the season, and we’ve already paid for the use of the arena.” The hope in her voice was more that Eric could bare. He hated to disappoint anyone.

 

“Umm. Of course. I’d be glad to help.”

 

“Oh brilliant! I’ll drop Siobhan off tomorrow morning and give you the details. We have a meeting Thursday night at six thirty if you would come.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Thank you so much! See you tomorrow!”

 

Eric hung up the phone, wrapped his arms around his legs, with his forehead resting on them. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

 

He’d have to put a couple of quarters in the swear jar.

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle:** What is it about geese flying south that can set up a hollow feeling in your chest? Feeling melancholy #missingGeorgia

 


	4. Welcome to the New Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [redscudery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscudery) for her translations. Any mistakes are mine - as I am the queen of miscommunication XD  
> Thanks to [mattsloved1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattsloved1) for looking this over.  
> I am attempting hovertext :P I have no faith:P but translations at the end for when I screw up or mobile users

_Oh yay!_

_I’m so happy to meet you today!_

_I heard you are special, kind and smart._

_I heard you’ve been blessed with a beautiful heart._

_This year is definitely going to be wild!_

_All because you are such a wonderful, amazing child!_

_Author unknown_

 

It wasn't skating that triggered Eric’s anxiety and caused his stomach to clench, his hands to shake and his adrenaline to spike. It really, really wasn’t. Skating freed him on so many levels. Skating meant confidence, poetry, joy. Skating had given him something that was his and channeled so much of his excess energy and creativity. His mother put him into skating as a way of coping with his boundless drive, and he had taken to it like the proverbial duck to water.

 

Skating had also brought with it pain and heartache, but not from the sport itself. He knew he was good, but not good enough to make it a career or to go to the Olympics. He had been happy with what he’d attained.

 

Skating had given him opportunities to meet new people and he had. He’d met someone so amazing, so unique. Someone who’d helped him realize who lived inside of him and where his heart lay. Someone who had taken that young trust and first love and twisted it. Treated it like trash, dashed it to the ground and stomped on it.

 

The scars of that first love, first relationship still lay heavy on his heart.

 

Eric turned out all of the lights and crawled into bed, snuggled in flannel bottoms and an old t-shirt. The temperature had dropped a bit, and he thought he’d soon have to break out the down duvet his mother had bought for him as a house-warming gift. Reaching for the bedside lamp to flick it off, his phone chirped for the second time that night. He sighed, hoping it wasn’t Mrs. Burk again because he was too tired to deal with the past and all the emotions it brought back.

 

It wasn’t. It was Larissa. He paused before answering, trying to get some happy thoughts in his head and voice. No point in reaming ‘Ris out for mentioning he used to skate. She hadn’t known he might not want it out there.

 

“Yo Bits!”

 

“Hey, ‘Ris! Did you hear? We’re getting a new student on Monday.”

 

“Yeah, that’s why I called. Shitty knows her dad.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. Do you know who Jack Zimmermann is?”

 

“No! Are you serious? The hockey player who just retired?” When he’d heard the little girl’s name, he’d briefly wondered but who the hell would have thought Jack Zimmermann would end up out here in the middle of nowhere?

 

“Totes. And Brah, he’s not in what we call a happy place. Shitty won't give deets ‘cause he says it's not his place, but he did want you to know it’s been rough.”

 

“Okay. Well, thanks and thank Shitty, too. I guess we’ll just have to do our very best to make them feel welcome.” A different flare of anxiety flashed up. He was going to be teaching a famous person’s child. Nope. Don't go there. She’s like any other student and needed to be treated the same. Perhaps she’d need normal even more than the others.

 

“Wouldn't expect anything else,” she said. They chatted a bit about tomorrow and then hung up.

 

The rest of the week flew. Karl, still busy and with an unerring nose for trouble, did manage to swear a little less, especially after Eric introduced a good behavior jar for the whole class, saying, “We’re all going to work on best manners.” He told them he’d put a pompom in for every period of the day the whole class stayed out of trouble or was a kind friend. “When it’s full, we’ll trade it in for a special activity day!” He’d pulled Karl aside, to tell him privately he’d add five more at the end of the day if he could stop swearing. On the first day, he added three pompoms for Karl, praising him for only saying bad words twice.

 

Mrs. Isozaki stopped by after school, and they worked on planning a special Thanksgiving meal for the Friday before the October long weekend. They would cook a small turkey, serve mashed potatoes and raw vegetables, thinking the children would be more likely to eat them than cooked ones and four kinds of pie.

 

Thursday night came quickly. About fifteen minutes before the meeting, his hands shaking a bit and palms sweating, Eric got into his little car and headed over to the arena. Run down and on the small size it still held a place of pride for the town. As he exited his car, he could hear the wheezing of ancient machinery and the asphalt in the parking lot sported cracks and potholes. Just outside the main doors hung a sign thanking a list of sponsors and local businesses. Entering, the distinctive aroma of ice, exhaust from a faulty compressor and a faint whiff of sweaty hockey pads greeted him and inundated him, memories flashing up of early mornings practices. Glancing around wondering where he should go, he noticed a small meeting room off to the left where Mrs. Burk and Larissa were sitting. Larissa’s face broke into a grin, and she waved.

 

“Hey, Eric! Why didn't you tell me you were coming tonight? We could’ve come together.”

 

“Um, I forgot, I guess?” Larissa frowned but didn't pry. Eric wondered if she’d ask later about the obvious lie in his voice.

 

He sat down, pulled a new notebook out from his bag and fiddled with a pen. Larissa sat beside him. She leaned over and whispered, “Are you alright?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay.” She frowned. “Dude, if you don't want to be here, just say. We’ll manage.”

 

“No. I promised.” The pen flipped back and forth in his fingers.

 

The small table quickly filled up, mostly with women, the men there connected with hockey. Larissa whispered they always invited the head of the local hockey association so they could schedule practices and timetable skating events around hockey.

 

A woman Eric didn’t know introduced herself to him as Cathy Fraser. She was in charge of the skating club and head coach. She explained to those gathered that the other coach, Anne Jefferies, had had to leave suddenly and that the treasurer Helen Burk had asked Eric Bittle if he would fill in for her. She smiled at Eric and said, “Would you be okay with teaching a mix of students? I need help with coaching the younger skaters as there are always more registered for beginning classes than I can handle. I understand you were at the Southern Junior Regionals and I think the older class would be interested in your experiences training for the competitive level. We have some who are good enough to go to juveniles. I have contacted our regional Skate Canada liaison, and they said as long as you qualify and pass the NCCP test, you can fill in. I told them it was only for short term and as you’re a teacher, you’ll already have had a background check. The test for someone in your position is online, shouldn’t take long. We are even able to pay you a little.”

 

Eric shifted a bit in his seat. “First I’d like to thank y’all for asking me. I’ve had some experience helping with coaching before I went to a private coach, teaching and helping the younger skaters at our rink. I enjoyed it. But I want you to know I am a little anxious. I haven't skated for a while now. I, um…” he fumbled for the words to convey some of his reluctance without letting slip too much information. “I had some issues with…things… and there was a situation when I was at Juniors. I kinda thought I might not skate again. I’ve only been on the ice a bit since. I just want you to know so you aren't expecting top form.” He smiled nervously. Larissa looked at him, a frown on her face.

 

“No problem, Mr. Bittle. We are just so happy to have someone here for a few weeks. Are you sure you will be okay with accepting this position?”

 

Eric bit his lip. “Well, I can’t say I am as excited as y’all are, but I did volunteer, so I aim to give it my best shot.” He forced a smile. Larissa squeezed his leg.

 

Cathy nodded after a moment of hesitation and then shifted her conversation away from him and went on to talk about the next few weeks. The head of the hockey association submitted the timetable for their practices, and there was some negotiation. It looked like Tuesday nights would be free for the most part for the older classes to practice; Wednesday would work for power skating and a late night Ringette group. The skaters could have Saturday morning until eleven am. Eric only half listened as he jotted down the dates and times, his mind trying to stay away from thinking about Juniors. The meeting wrapped up, and Cathy arranged for him to meet her early Saturday morning to start his duties. He wrote down the website for the test and left, hoping to avoid Larissa.

 

No such luck.

 

“Hey, Bits. Wanna grab a coffee?”

 

He bit his lip, hesitating. “Sure.”

 

They drove in Eric’s car to the local Tim’s. He hadn't had much appetite for supper earlier so ordered a bowl of chili and a Chocolate Dream Latte. Larissa got a medium black, one sugar and a toasted everything bagel with plain cream cheese.

 

They took their trays to a small table near the window and sat in silence, each enjoying their drinks and food.

 

“So, Bittle.”

 

“So ‘Ris.”

 

“What’s up with you and the skating? I wouldn't have said anything if I’d known it was a difficult subject.”

 

“You didn't know.” He shrugged.

 

She munched a bit on her bagel, looking thoughtful. “You don't have to tell me anything.”

 

“No. I know. I might give you all the gory details later, but, hmmm, let’s say there was a personality conflict.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Eric nodded. He took a tentative sip of his drink. The coffee at Tim’s was usually scalding. “Yeah. The long and the short of it is, I met someone, I thought they were someone they weren’t, and I was left hanging. It shook me up, so I went out onto the ice, skated badly, and I was out of Regionals. I had trouble shaking it.” He looked down at his chili, frowning.

 

“So you have difficulty on the ice now? Bits, you should tell them.”

 

Eric sighed. “Yeah, but it’s not the skating. I think it will be okay. It's like teaching. And there’s no pressure on me. I’m not competing, and there’s no broken heart.”

 

“Oh, Bits. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Yeah, well I was young and foolish.”

 

“If it’s too much, let me know.” She held out a fist. “Got your back.” He smiled and bumped fists.

 

Feeling a bit better about the whole situation than he had earlier, he finished up his chili. Maybe it would be okay.

 

By Friday, Eric had managed to set up Olivia’s cubby and hook as well as rearranging the seating at the tables. He thought he would put her in the same group as Siobhan and Kameko as both of them were new to the country. Both little girls leaned toward the shy side and would perhaps be a good fit for Olivia. Of course, she could be a wild hooligan for all he knew.

 

Happy with the way things were set up for Monday, he picked up his school bag and left for home.

 

Back at his apartment, he pulled some homemade soup out of the freezer, set it in the microwave to thaw and then turned on his computer. He spent the evening going over the test to qualify to coach and saw it seemed straightforward. He bookmarked the site and would take it on Saturday if Cathy Fraser was happy with his interview. His mother had insisted he bring his skates and he found them at the back of his closet. He could hear her voice in his head as he pulled the skating bag out. _“Always good to be prepared, Dicky!”_ They’d need sharpening.

 

Yawning and stretching early Saturday, he shuffled out of bed, ate breakfast and headed to the rink. His stomach churned a bit, but he also felt a sense of anticipation. Perhaps he was ready to skate again after all.

 

Cathy was waiting there for him and smiled as she saw he dressed in his old warm-up clothes. “Ready to hit the ice?”

 

“As long as the ice doesn't hit me!” She introduced him to the maintenance man whose duties also included skate sharpening. He watched his blades being sharpened, feeling nostalgic.

 

Lacing up also brought back memories but it wasn’t until he stepped out onto the ice that he had to take a deep breath to still the overwhelming feelings. A flash of memories, a touch, a brief kiss, a pair of eyes, the colour as changeable and capricious as their owner, rose up before him, he shook his head and began by simply skating.

 

Cathy stood on the ice and watched him as he began to do some laps.

 

The funny thing was that he was able to let some of it go. Slipping more quickly than he thought he would into some of the old routines, skating backward, crossovers, a few tentative jumps. He did it by listening to his inner Katya, not his past heartbreak. He shook his head slightly. If he could just lock those broken shards away and listen to the stern clipped tones of his old coach, he could do this. He slid to a stop in front of Cathy, spraying her a bit with ice. She nodded, pleased.

 

“I can see where you’re a bit rusty, but I think with some practice you’d be back into regular form in no time. You are still very good, you know. You are qualified. And damn fast. I wonder if you think you have time if you’d be interested in showing some of that speed to the hockey coach. He’s always trying to get some of his players to look at the way figure skaters skate and work on speed. We call him ‘progressive’ around here.” She laughed. “Now show me how you would teach someone how to do a two-foot glide and a snowplow stop.”

 

She ran him through several exercises like that, where she pretended to be a new student. He worked her as hard as she worked him. Both were tired when she called a halt to the interview.

 

“You'll do. Now go pass the online test and if you’re game we can start you next week when skating officially opens.” She smiled and led the way off the ice, chatting offhandedly about who she thought he should work with first.

 

They left the building as the junior hockey team arrived for practice. Eric headed for his car, slid inside and just sat. He could feel where he’d be sore tomorrow, but it was a good sort of hurt. Tired and thoughtful, he found himself staring into the distance. His heart gave a quiet lurch as he remembered the touch of a hand and could almost hear a beloved voice whispering in his ear. “Come’on baby. I’ll be so good to you.” Eric clenched his fists. Nope, he wasn’t going to let old hurts ruin his new life. He could do this. He’d forgotten how much he’d loved skating and how much joy it could bring and he should never have let Kenny take any of that away from him.

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle:** Skated for the first time in a long time today. I’ve forgotten how much I’ve missed it.

 

 **cfrasersk8@hotmail.com:** Maplewood Community Centre is pleased to welcome Eric Bittle as interim skating coach.

 

oOo

 

Monday came clear and crisp. Frost covered the ground making it glow in the morning light. He was one of the first to arrive at school, anxious to make sure everything was in place for his new student.

 

Puttering around the classroom, he enjoyed the silence of working away by himself for the few minutes before Larissa arrived. She came in, two cups of coffee in her hands. She handed him his and asked how the skating had gone.

 

He sipped at the coffee, nodded in response to both her question and that first taste of fresh coffee. “Better than I expected.”

 

“Good,” she said and left it at that for which he was grateful. He had had enough self-reflection this week. A warm feeling spread through his chest. He knew she’d be there to listen if he wanted to unburden himself. He probably would, one of these days, just not yet.

 

About half an hour before the rest of the class arrived, there was a quiet knock on the doorframe. Eric turned to look at the three people standing there. One of them was Principal Hall. The other adult a tall, dark-haired man whose muscular frame filled the doorway, his mouth turned down at the corners as his eyes swept the room. Eric didn't think it was disapproval, _Please don't let it be disapproval_ , but more as if he was concerned about letting his daughter go into a new and unfamiliar situation. His hooded eyes looked tired, and there were circles under them. If Eric happened to notice he was on the handsome side, he let that thought bury itself for now. Clutching his hand was a petite little girl, whose large blue eyes took up most of her face. She had her thumb in her mouth, and Eric could see she trembled a bit. Hall introduced Eric to Jack Zimmermann and his daughter, Olivia.

 

Ignoring the two adults, Eric crouched down and smiled his gentlest of smiles at Olivia.

 

“Hi, Olivia. My name is Mr. Bittle. This is my E.C.E. Ms. Duan. We’re so happy to have you join us today. I hope you will like being here. Just so you know, I’m rather new myself.”

 

Olivia didn't smile back, but there was a slight lessening of her anxiety and she removed her thumb. He walked slowly away from her and over to her cubby and coat hook. “Here’s your cubby. I’ve put you next to Siobhan. She just came here from Ireland in August. She’ll be sitting with you at lunch.” Eric walked back to where she stood, still holding her father’s hand in a death grip. “I know it's a lot; new school, new teacher. I think you’ll like it here, but you don't have to do anything right away that makes you feel uncomfortable.” He then walked over to the craft table. “I have a craft set up for Thanksgiving. I understand you’ve been living in America. I still think it's strange Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving so early, but I do like the fact that this year I’m planning to have two Thanksgivings. Do you like to make crafts? We’re making a turkey today out of our hands and then I’m going to put them up in the hall. I have googley eyes to put on them. Googley eyes make everything fun.”

 

Olivia nodded tentatively when he’d asked about crafts and her fingers loosened a bit. He walked over and held out his hand. She looked up at her dad, who nodded and said something quietly. "Vas-y, poulette, je serais juste ici."

 

She let go and put her hand in Eric’s who led her over to the cubby and helped her hang up her backpack and jacket. He asked her if her shoes were for wearing indoors or did she have others in her bag and she shook her head. “That's all right. We’ll send a list of things home with you tonight you might want to have at school. There’s no snow yet, and it's a beautiful day, so your shoes will be nice and dry.” He chatted away, not really expecting anything but trying to make her feel more secure. She sat down at the craft table, and he traced her hand. “Now if you want, you can use these paints to colour your turkey or I have crayons. I can also paint your hand and we can do a turkey handprint. No? That’s okay. Some people don't like the feel of paint on their hands. What’s your favourite colour?”

 

She pointed to the red crayon and picked it up to start colouring. “You all right here, sweetheart? I’m just going to talk with your Daddy for a minute.” She nodded quietly and Larissa sat beside her while Eric went back to where the two men stood. He held out his hand. “Eric Bittle.”

 

“Jack Zimmermann. I wasn’t aware Olivia’s teacher would be a man,” he said, his voice quiet with a pleasant accent.

 

“I hope that won’t be a problem,” said Eric trying to keep his tone neutral. Some of the parents had had an issue with it in the beginning.

 

“No. She's used to hanging around men. It is just…different. She’s very shy in new situations.” He frowned. Eric got the impression he wasn’t unhappy just trying to express something he was unsure about. “Her last teacher was a woman and you're not.” He shrugged. “She’s had a lot of change recently and I just want to make sure she’s happy.”

 

“I understand, Mr. Zimmermann. I can assure you that Ms. Duan and I will do everything we can to make Olivia comfortable.” He gestured around the room and talked about where Olivia would sit and who some of her new classmates would be. He mentioned some of the week’s activities. “I will send home this month’s newsletter to you and a link to our class blog. If you would jot down your email address when you get a chance, I can send you more information.”

 

Mr. Zimmermann nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Bittle. Um, I’d like to say goodbye to Livvy if you don't mind. And I’ll be picking her up after school for the next few days until we get the busing information.”

 

He then walked over to where Olivia sat and knelt beside her and spoke quietly to her. "Je dois partir, chérie, mais je vais venir te chercher avant le souper."

 

Olivia put her crayon down, her eyes filled with tears. She answered her father in French. "Non, Papa, reste ici. Je connais personne." And she threw her arms around him.

 

His eyes closed as he hugged her back. "Il faut que je pars. Tu vas faire de nouveaux amis er Monsieur Lapin est dans ton sac. Je dirais à Monsieur Eric. Il va sûrement te laisser garder ton lapin avec toi pour le moment."

 

"Non, Papa, reste! J'ai pas d'amis ici!"

 

One last hug and he stood up to go. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him with a trembling lip.

 

Eric thought his heart might break a bit. It was so difficult for most children to be uprooted from their homes and thrust in a strange environment. He may not understand what she said to her father, but he understood children. He walked over and sat beside her. “Olivia, Ms. Duan and I are going to make sure everything is okay. Would you like to write to your Daddy and send him a picture of your day?”

 

She looked at him dubiously and then turned to her father. “Is that okay?”

 

Jack Zimmermann nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yes. I know how to open an email, sweetie. But Livvy, you have to remember to speak English. Not everyone speaks _Francais_.”

 

She nodded, hugged her father once more. “I will, but they should learn. It's more fun.” Then she whispered to her father something Eric couldn't quite make out.

 

“Yes, he does a little bit. But I think he’s much nicer. I have to go now.” The bell to begin the day rang and the sound of children hurrying into the school could be heard. “I will see you just after three.” He quickly walked to the door. Larissa rubbed Olivia’s back while Eric saw him out to the hall.

 

Jack Zimmerman pulled out a card from his wallet and quickly wrote his email address on the back of it. “Thank you for your understanding, Mr. Bittle. I’ll be back later to pick Olivia up.” Eric took the card from him, noting that Jack’s hand was shaking a bit. He touched his arm. “I can promise you she’s in good hands and we will help her settle in.”

 

Jack looked at him, a range of emotions flickered over his face. “Yes, I believe you will. Thank you.”

 

He left, and Eric took up the task of navigating Olivia through her first day of school.

 

 **Email from ericbittle@ed.gldsb.ca to jz1@zimmerman.ca:** Hi Papa! These are my friends Siobhan and Kameko. These are our turkeys. We had carrot mini muffins for snack. Mr. Bitty helped me. I miss you Love, Olivia

 

 **Attachment:** a photograph of three little girls, one blond, two brunettes, smiling at the camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vas-y, poulette, je serais juste ici. - Go ahead, sweetheart. I'll be right here. 
> 
> Je dois partir, chérie, mais je vais venir te chercher avant le souper. - Sweetheart, I have to go, but I’ll come get you at the end of the day. 
> 
> Non, Papa, reste ici. Je connais personne. - No, Papa. Don't go. 
> 
> Il faut que je pars. Tu vas faire de nouveaux amis er Monsieur Lapin est dans ton sac. Je dirais à Monsieur Eric. Il va sûrement te laisser garder ton lapin avec toi pour le moment. - I have to sweetie. You’ll be okay. You’ll meet some new friends and Monsieur Lapin is in your backpack. I'll tell Mr. Bittle. I’m sure he'll let you hold on to him for now.
> 
> Non, Papa, reste! J'ai pas d'amis ici! - No Papa! Please don't go. I don't have any friends here.


	5. Happy Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note in case you didn't know. Canadian Thanksgiving is the second Monday in October. It is mostly a harvest type celebration. Often families gather on the Saturday or Sunday even though the Monday is a statutory holiday. I have never made a Thanksgiving dinner for my class although I know schools who do it for their students.
> 
> Thanks to mattsloved1 who found mistakes after the fact :D

_Thank you for the turkey._

_Thank you for the pie._

_Thank you for the corn and bread_

_And squash I’m going to try._

_Thank you for the sun and wind,_

_For each flower, plant and tree._

_Thank you for my friends and family,_

_Gathered here with me._

_Thanks for Thanksgiving._

_Author Unknown_

 

Sitting on his porch, tilting back on the legs of one of his mismatched kitchen chairs, feet up on the railing, Eric ran a hand through his hair and grinned.

 

He had a three-day weekend. Skating in the morning, ever-present schoolwork to do and progress reports for the Senior Kindergarten kids due at the office soon but he had nothing else on his agenda, and he would thoroughly enjoy the extra day. Maybe even sleep in an extra hour or so and loaf around in pj's.

 

The glass of wine he sipped took the edge off what had been an incredibly busy day, even though things went well.

 

He’d arrived at work extra early, wearing his best suit jacket, a new bow tie and carrying in several pie carriers and a fully cooked turkey already sliced. His car parked temporarily in the fire lane, he ran back and forth to bring in another couple of pies and the bowl of mashed potatoes.

 

Justin came along as he struggled with the door.

 

“Let me get that for you.” He held the door open for him. “Watcha got there? Mmm. It sure smells good.’

 

“This is not for you, Mr. Oluransi! It's for the kindergarten students.”

 

“Yes, but what if there are leftovers?”

 

Eric laughed at the pleading look on Justin’s face. “We’ll see. I’m sure there will be something left.” He placed the containers on the staff room table and hurried out to move his car.

 

Mrs. Isozaki arrived at eight with Kameko in tow. She brought with her a tray of fresh cut vegetables and fruit.

Eric took one last look around the classroom before the buses rolled in and a new day started. This special Thanksgiving celebration held the potential of being a spectacular day or would end up in tears and chaos, and he wasn’t sure if it would be his tears watering the plants at the end of the day or the students.

 

“Looking good, Eric!” said Larissa.

 

“Feeling good, ‘Ris,” as he high-fived her. The sound of small, excited voices could be heard coming down the hall. Eric stood in the doorway, greeting each child while Larissa and Mrs. Isozaki helped the children hang up their backpacks.

 

Olivia came in with Siobhan, holding her hand. Olivia had been dropped off every other morning this week.

 

“Good morning! Did you come on the bus today, Olivia?”

 

She nodded at him.

 

“Are you on the same bus as Siobhan?”

 

She nodded again.

 

“That’s great. Okay, in you go. Hang up your backpacks.”

 

Riding the same bus would help make the transition a little easier for Olivia. While still cautious and quiet, she and Siobhan and Kameko had formed a nice little friendship. Eric had let Olivia keep Monsieur Lapin with her, and that seemed to help.

 

The children were overly animated, and the noise level reached new record highs. Karl, Roger, and Farhan took turns jumping off of the benches until Larissa took them by the hand and led them over to the carpet, while Eric prevented Leigh and Petal from chasing each other, shouting with delight. Olivia and Kameko held their hands over their ears, the noise level too much for them. Eric spoke to several of the loudest individuals reminding them to use their indoor voices.

 

“My indoor voice is big, Mr. Bitty,” said Karl.

 

“Not today and not next week either.”

 

“What about after that?”

 

Eric smiled and said, “We’ll see.” He looked down when he felt a hand tugging on his pant leg.

 

“What is it, Marty?”

 

“We eat gurkey?”

 

“Soon sweetheart.”

 

Before any more shenanigans could commence, the P.A came on, and Mr. Hall’s deep monotone voice said, “Good Morning students. It is Friday, October Seventh. Please stand for ‘O’ Canada.’” The sound of the school’s junior choir came on, prerecorded earlier in September. The students in Eric’s class all stood, except Truman who couldn’t get his outdoor shoes off. Eric walked over and held out his hand. Truman smiled at him, took his hand and stood up, one foot in the air.

 

After announcements, Eric sat the children down in the meeting area. “Okay, my little turkeys, everyone turn and give a great big ‘Hello’ to Mrs. Isozaki. She’s here to help with the Thanksgiving activities, and she made some of the food we’ll be eating today. This morning, we’re going to center activities like usual, but we’re going to stop early for our first Nutrition Break so we can wash up and then eat up.”

 

The students went to various centers, and Eric and Larissa circulated throughout the room. They asked the students about what they were doing or thinking about at some of the centers. They took pictures of them for their portfolios and wrote down what the children said. A few of the nicer pictures, he set aside to put up on the blog. He’d take lots of pictures at lunch, too.

 

When Nutrition Break came, Larissa lined up the students at the sinks while she supervised hand washing and Eric and Mrs. Isozaki walked down to the staff room and pulled out all the food that had been prepared, loading it onto a cart. They wheeled it down to the class and began setting it out on the tables. Right on schedule Principal Hall and Mr. Murray showed up to help with distributing the food.

 

After all the children had been fed and all the juice drunk, they went out to play for recess. The three adults tidied the room, packing away the leftovers to carry down to the staff room. Eric insisted Mrs. Isozaki take home one of the pies that hadn't been cut.

 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Bitty. I hope you have a lovely Thanksgiving.”

 

The rest of the day had ended well, with no fighting, and even Karl managed to keep it together. Eric read the story Franklin’s Thanksgiving by Paulette Bourgeois and the students loved how Franklin and his parents had each invited their friends over without anyone else knowing.

 

Olivia looked very thoughtful. “Mr. Bitty?” she asked.

 

“Yes, Olivia?” He felt a sense of delight. She hadn’t yet contributed to any class discussions.

 

“Moose’s family didn't know.”

 

“Didn't know what, sweetheart?”

 

“About Fanksgiving.”

 

“Well, they’re new in town. Moose's family didn’t have anything ready for it, which is why Franklin invited them over for supper. He wanted to make them feel welcome.”

 

“You’re new.”

 

Eric laughed. “Well, yes, I guess I am. I guess lots of us are new. You and me and Siobhan and Kameko and Shreya are all new to living here. And some of us are new to the school. All the Seniors were here last year, but all the Juniors are just starting out.” He smiled at her.

 

He ended the day with The Turkey Song

 

_He’s big, and he’s fat, and he gobble, gobble, gobbles._

_He spreads his tail, and he gobble, gobble, gobbles._

_And when Thanksgiving Day is here_

_It's our turn to gobble, gobble, gobble._

 

Olivia didn't join in. She propped her chin on her hand and continued to watch Eric with her big eyes.

 

After, Eric led them out to the buses and said, “Have a Happy Thanksgiving!” to each one.

 

Now back home, he smiled, remembering, happy it had been successful, drained his glass and watched the sky fade from blue to green and purple to night black. The first star twinkled at him. The night air chilled him, and he had just decided to go back into the apartment when he heard his phone ring.

 

He grabbed the chair and wrestled with the door, getting to the phone just before it went to voice mail.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, Bits.”

 

“’Ris! What’s up? Didn't you see enough of me today?”

 

“Are you busy tomorrow?”

 

‘”Well I have skating in the morning, but other than school work, not really.”

 

“Excellent. Shits and I are taking you shopping.”

 

“Shopping for what?”

 

“We’re going to winterize you.”

 

“What on Earth are you chattering about, Ms. Duan?”

 

“You’ll see. We’ll be at the arena after skating. See you then!” and she hung up before Eric could respond.

 

Bemused, he washed up the dinner dishes and turned on the TV to see if anything exciting happened to be on.

 

Finding himself nodding off after about an hour or so, he changed into pj's and crawled into bed.

 

Dawn woke him the next morning, just before his alarm. He lay in bed for a few minutes, warm and comfortable. Reluctantly, he finally dragged himself out of bed and pulled on his old skating clothes. While the coffee maker wheezed at him, he grabbed a bowl of cereal and munched on an apple. Throwing a Tupperware container of homemade protein bars, another apple and a bottle of water into his skating bag, he poured his coffee into a travel mug and headed out the door.

 

The air was cold enough to crinkle his nose, and he wondered about grabbing a heavier jacket, but surely it would warm up later. He’d be fine.

 

Arriving at the arena, a few cars already in the parking lot, he made his way through the doors.

 

“Moring Eric!” sang Cathy. She had a big grin on her face and slapped Eric on the back.

 

“Have I mentioned not to talk to me until after I’ve finished the contents of this mug?” Eric grumbled at her.

 

She laughed and flicked on the rest of the arena lights. Eric downed his coffee and laced up his skates. As he went out onto the ice to warm up, some of the older students began arriving, looking about as awake as Eric.

 

Morning practice went well. He helped some of the skaters with a few of the trickier moves. And then Cathy asked him to help Moria work on jumps. She had a decent shot at serious competition.

 

After the older students, came the younger, with the older students staying to help.

 

Eric loved the littlest students. Several from his class were there including Olivia.

 

He smiled at her as her father brought her out on the ice.

 

“Good morning Olivia! Are you ready for some fun? Hi Mr. Zimmermann, how are you today?”

 

Olivia smiled, clutching her father’s hand, still shy with him, especially out of school. Jack Zimmermann frowned slightly.

 

“Please, call me Jack.”

 

“Oh, okay. Jack. Hi!”

 

Jack took his hand out of his pocket and waved and then stuck it back in.

 

Feeling awkward, Eric turned to Olivia. “Well Miss Olivia, are you ready to warm up?”

 

She nodded. Her father bent down, and she kissed his cheek. Eric thought he’d die from the cute. They both watched her head off, quite steady on her skates.

 

Eric turned back to Jack, a little surprised to see him still standing there.

 

“Umm,” said Eric. “She’ll be finished in about an hour if you want to come back or you can watch from the parents' lounge up there." He pointed to the second floor.

 

“Uh, umm,” said Jack, “I, uh, I’m going to be here all day. I’m helping coach peewee. My parents will be coming to get her after skating.”

 

“Oh okay.” Eric smiled, wanting to go, but feeling like Jack had more to say.

 

“I, uh, Olivia said, that maybe you don't have anyone, I mean, perhaps you are by yourself for Thanksgiving?”

 

Eric felt his cheeks redden. “Oh, well, I don't have plans, but then I didn't expect to, being new here and all.”

 

“Well, she wouldn't let it go. Said you’d read a book about it. How we should invite you over. My parents are having a really nice supper on Sunday, and you are more than welcome.”

 

“Oh! I couldn't possibly…”

 

“Shitty and Larissa are going to come, probably Justin and Adam, too. “

 

“Oh, but…

 

“And if we were going to have them over, we should invite you, too.”

 

“But…well…if it’s not an imposition…”

 

“No, of course not.” He looked Eric up and down. “My mum’s a good cook. There will be plenty. Besides, you don't look like you eat much. You should eat more protein, Mr. Bittle.”

 

If Eric turned any redder, he would have combusted. “Oh stop. If I have to call you Jack, please call me Eric. I guess I could come, but I insist on bringing dessert.”

 

“Oh, no you don't…”

 

“Please, if I don't show up with something my Mama will have my hide.”

 

Jack smiled, but it was a rusty smile as if he hadn't remembered to do it lately. “All right. I’m sure Maman will approve. We eat around noon and then eat again about six.”

 

“Okay. I’m seeing Shitty and ‘Ris after skating. Maybe I can hitch a ride with them.”

 

“See you tomorrow.”

 

“Bye!” Eric skated back to the class he should have already been supervising. Cathy snuck up behind him.

 

“Well that was the most animated I have ever seen Jack Zimmermann, and I’ve known him for years.”

 

“Hush, he just invited me for supper is all. Olivia did the inviting all because of a book I read.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Eric just waved her off. There certainly was nothing going on there. Jack Zimmermann, important former hockey player, was just being polite.

 

Skating finished up around noon. Eric shooed the students off of the ice and into the hands of their parents or in some cases grandparents. The Zamboni started up and smoothed the surface. The peewee group waited impatiently to skate out. Jack stood nearby talking with the other coach and going over notes on a clipboard. Eric didn't really know what to say to him but made sure to watch Olivia get scooped up into a tight hug by a very attractive couple that did not look old enough to be grandparents.

 

Olivia dragged them over to Eric. She was speaking rapid-fire Francais to them.

 

“Livy, slow down. Hello, I’m Alicia Zimmermann, and this is my husband, Bob. We’re Jack’s parents, Olivia’s grandparents. This monkey says you’re her teacher, Mr. Bitty.”

 

“Hello, yes I am. Eric Bittle.” Eric felt himself blush once more. As he was shaking her hand, Shitty and Larissa showed up.

 

“Yo! Zimmer’rents! How’s it hanging?” Shitty, loud as usual, engulfed Bob in a bone-crushing hug, which he returned two-fold. He then hugged Alicia more gently while Larissa exchanged hugs with Mr. Zimmermann.

 

“Jack said you’re coming for supper on Sunday? That’s marvelous.” Alicia’s smile was warm.

 

“That’s ‘swasome. So glad to hear you are stepping out and embracing the culture of small town Canadia.’ Said Shitty.

 

“Canadia?” asked Larissa.

 

Shitty shrugged. “It works. We’d best be going.”

 

Olivia waved at Eric.

 

“Bye Olivia. See you tomorrow.”

 

“Bye Mr. Bitty.”

 

Shitty looked like Christmas had come early. “Mr. Bitty? Why didn't I think of that?”

 

“Oh, shush you,” Eric said.

 

“Come along Itty Bitty. We have shopping to do.”

 

The three of them piled into Shitty’s car only slightly larger than Eric’s and a whole lot messier. Stopping at Tim’s drive through first, they headed out of town. About half an hour later they rolled into a slightly larger town and pulled into a shopping center parking lot.

 

“Welcome to Canadian Tire, Bitty!”

 

“Uh, okay.”

 

“Think of it as a beautiful conglomeration of a hardware store slash automotive center slash home decorating slash sports store. We are going to help you get outfitted for winter or at least get your car equipped. We’ll need to get you warmer clothes someplace else.”

 

“I have warm clothes.”

 

Shitty grinned. “I thought I had warm clothes until I nearly fucking froze my first winter here. If ‘Ris here hadn’t saved my pale white ass.”

 

“And you have yard duty, Eric. You have no idea how cold that playground can be in January.”

 

Eric just rolled his eyes and headed for the doors.

 

Larissa grabbed a cart, and they went up and down the aisles. She threw in shovels, (“One for the porch and one for the car.”) snow brush, ice scraper, winter survival kit, (“Contains essential emergency items if you're stuck in a ditch somewhere.”), a bag of sand, candles, extra propane for Eric’s small barbeque, lock lubricant, (Shitty waggled his eyebrows at her. “For the car door locks, fool.”) and windshield washer fluid. Then they stopped over at the automotive center and had Eric book an appointment for winter tires.

 

“Is this necessary? I have all-season.”

 

“I know it’s an expense, but you have no idea what it’s like driving in a squall. Snow up to your chin on either side of the highway, whiteouts, and icy patches. The lake here throws nasty weather, and it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

 

Then she dragged him to the cash register, and then they loaded Shitty’s trunk. After, they took him into the mall next-door and shopped for a good winter coat, boots, hats, scarves, and gloves. “Snowpants too! Then we can take the kids tobogganing.”

 

When they left, he had all of that plus a few extra pairs of winter weight pants and warmer shirts.

 

They went out for supper at a local restaurant and then back to the rink to get Eric’s car. Shitty and Larissa drove off with a promise to see him about eleven thirty the next day.

 

He stayed up late making two pies and some cookies and after he tidied the kitchen put all of his new purchases away.

 

The next morning, he slept late and woke up with just enough time to shower and dress. Larissa and Shitty were waiting for him in the driveway as he hurriedly packed the pies and cookies. He came flying out of the house.

 

“Sorry, I’m late. I actually slept in for the first time I can remember.”

 

“No worries, young Bitty-bits. Away!” sang Shitty, revving the engine and turning up the music on the car radio. The crisp air had that slightly woody, dead foliage smell mixed in with the odour of leaves burning in some farmer’s burn barrel. The trees were gorgeous, oranges, yellows, and reds with a smattering of green peeking through from the evergreens. The quality of light even felt fallish, and the sky held endless blue. Every once in awhile, there was a field being harvested or an orchard with signs advertising fresh cider. Shitty stopped at one and bought a jug of apple and a pear and apple mix.

 

Driving toward the lake, they bitched about school and the kids, about extra work coming down from the board office and the ridiculousness of decisions made by people who hadn't been in the classroom in years, if ever.

 

Shitty turned onto a side road that wound around until it ran parallel to the lake. They passed cottages on either side, some small and modest summer affairs, already boarded up for winter, but quite a few rather large ones that appeared more winterized. Finally, they turned into the driveway of one that was more like the latter, a huge affair of fieldstone, weathered shingles and a wrap around porch.

 

Eric’s mouth fell open. “Oh my goodness! Shitty! That is the biggest cottage I’ve ever seen!”

 

“Welcome to the lifestyle of retired hockey players, Bits.”

 

“You mean…was Jack’s dad a hockey player too?”

 

Larissa raised an eyebrow at him. “Of course he is. He’s ‘Bad Bob’ Zimmermann.”

 

Eric just stared at her.

 

“Come on, Bits! You’ve never heard of Bad Bob? He won, like, three Stanley Cups. Jack only has two.”

 

“I am so underdressed.”

 

Laughing, Shitty, said, “Ah, Nah Brah. He’s so fucking not like that, neither is Jack or his Mom. They’re down to earth. You’ll be fine.”

 

Parking the car, he carried in the cookies and cider while Eric took the pies and Larissa had a bottle of wine and a bag of rolls.

 

Alicia welcomed them warmly and showed them where to place the food.

 

“Everyone’s on the porch. It’s such a gorgeous day, and we’re trying to soak in as much of the sunshine and fresh air as we can before winter sets in.”

 

Eric felt very nervous and slightly overwhelmed. Alicia’s kitchen was huge and pretty much everything he’d ever dreamed of in a kitchen.

 

“May I give you a hand, Mrs. Zimmermann?”

 

“Alicia, please. Oh, no thanks, Eric. Everything’s ready. Let’s go out and visit for a bit before supper.”

 

She led him to the sliding doors, and they stepped out onto the porch. Eric looked around to see Shitty, and Larissa had already found seats next to Justin and Adam. Bob and Jack were leaning against the rails, backs to the lake, speaking quietly, but with lots of hand gestures. How they could ignore, the spectacular view of the lake was beyond him. He greeted everyone and Bob, and Jack came over and joined them. Olivia sat on a porch swing, cuddling Monsieur Lapin. She smiled at Eric when he said hi but didn't say anything back.

 

Everyone chatted comfortably. Eric told himself he’d be a good listener and just absorb the conversation around him, but he didn't stay quiet for long. Talk flowed and coiled around him, and he went in and out of various discussions.

 

Noon came, and Bob and Alicia showed everyone to the dining room. Alicia had decorated the table with leaves spread out on a red tablecloth. Little pats of butter were cut out in the shape of turkeys. Eric insisted on helping her bring in serving dishes.

 

Talk from the porch continued and turned to a discussion of the difference between Canadian and American Thanksgiving with Eric, Shitty, and Alicia for the Americans and the rest for Canada. Eric whispered to Olivia who sat beside him.

 

“Which do you like?”

 

“Both,” she said. “I like turkey. We had both.”

 

Jack smiled at her and said, “Usually if there wasn't hockey we’d come here for Thanksgiving, and then my parents would come to Providence for American Thanksgiving. Often there was hockey though so we didn't always celebrate on the official holiday.”

 

“Sometimes Grandma and Grandpa come, too.”

 

“Grandma and Grandpa?”

 

Shutters seemed to slam over Jack’s face, and Eric saw Alicia and Bob glance at each other. Everyone was engaged in a different conversation at the other end of the table and seemed to miss the sudden quiet.

 

“Mommy’s mommy and daddy. I’m seeing them tomorrow.”

 

“Olivia, finish up your lunch so we can try Mr. Bitty’s pie,” said Alicia.

 

The conversation shifted, and the discussion of Olivia’s other grandparents seemed to be forgotten.

 

Dishes were cleared, and pie came out onto the table. Everyone exclaimed over Eric’s desserts.

 

“Eric, this is amazing! How did you not go into cooking?” said Bob, his mouth full of pecan with a chocolate crust.

 

“Well, I thought about it. I use to have a baking blog when I went to college, but then Teacher’s college came along, and I let it fall by the wayside. There was just so much work involved at school. Now I bake for pleasure or friends and sometimes when I am procrastinating,” he laughed.

 

“So you bake, you skate, you teach, and there’s a blog out there somewhere we need to locate,” said Adam, ticking his fingers.

 

“Oh goodness, Y'all need to forget I even mentioned that. I shudder to think anyone finding it!”

 

“Dude, we found your skating videos. We can find your blog.”

 

“Yeah, about that, how come you gave up skating?” said Justin

 

“Oh, well, I was just okay.” He waved a hand vaguely. “I was never really interested in making a career out of it. It was just something I did.” Hoping the subject would be dropped he took another bite of pie.

 

He could see Larissa shooting Adam daggers, and she must have kicked him under the table because he yelped.

 

“Ow!” said Adam, bending down to rub his shin. “What did I do?”

 

She just shook her head at him.

 

The conversation seemed to dry up at that point. To cover the awkward silence, Eric stood to remove the dishes and Justin, and Adam helped. Shitty volunteered to rinse and load the dishwasher. Everyone else moved back out onto the porch.

 

“Papa, can we walk on the beach?” asked Olivia.

 

Jack smiled at Olivia, “Of course, _poulette_. Anyone else want to come?”

 

Jackets were fetched, and everyone made their way down the stairs to the beach. The wind had picked up, and it seemed to go right through Eric. He shivered a bit and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Olivia came running up beside him and grabbed one of his hands, yanking it out of his pocket. Warmth seeped from her hand into his, and his heart melted a little. He smiled at her, and they walked together, neither one really talking. Every once in a while, Olivia would stop, pick up a stone and put it in her pocket or throw it into the water, divining by some method known only to her which ones were pocket worthy. Eric could hear Jack and Shitty talking politics behind them.

 

“Mr. Bitty?”

 

“Yes, sweetpea?”

 

“Do you like hockey?”

 

“Well now, I don't rightly know. I haven't watched much of it. Where I come from, everyone likes football. My Daddy’s a football coach.”

 

“I like hockey. I want to play like Papa.”

 

“If that’s what you want to do, I’m sure you will.”

 

“Karl said girls can't play hockey and I said yes they can.”

 

“Maybe Karl has never seen girls play hockey before and he doesn't know.”

 

“Karl is a doofus.”

 

Eric smiled but didn't let Olivia see him. “He just needs someone to tell him girls can do anything they want, just like boys can.” He made a mental note to bring this up next week.

 

“Papa says I can play hockey. He says some of the best hockey players are girls.”

 

“Lots of people told me I couldn’t teach Kindergarten, yet here I am. I knew a few people who were really good figure skaters and some of them went into hockey. Some of them were boys, and they were told boys can't play hockey if they’d been in figure skating.” He felt that tug on his heart again, and he gently squeezed Olivia’s hand to help ground him in the here and now. “In fact, there was one who was probably one of the fastest figure skaters I knew who went on to play hockey. So you see, even if it’s hard you can't always let other people tell you who you have to be. You have to figure that out for yourself.”

 

“Seems a little deep for her, doesn't it?” asked Justin who’d come up beside them.

 

“If she wasn’t ready to hear it, she wouldn't ask.”

 

Olivia stopped to pick up another rock. She looked at it carefully and then threw it into the lake. The waves and the winds covered the sound of the splash. She wrinkled her nose and kept on walking.

 

They had gone so far the Zimmermann cottage had disappeared. They turned and made their way back. Jack came up behind Olivia and picked her up. She giggled with delight, and he put her on his shoulders.

 

Larissa and Shitty were trying to walk leg over leg with their arms across each other’s shoulders, and Justin and Adam had stayed back a bit and were kissing in the setting sun. It almost made Eric’s heart break, but in a good way. He felt overwhelmed with the love everyone had for each other.

 

Bob had laid a fire in the fireplace and had fallen asleep. He woke with a grunt when they came in, a swirl of autumn wind trailing behind them, causing papers on the coffee table to rustle.

 

Shitty opened the bottle of wine they’d brought, and he passed out glasses to everyone. More wine came out of the cabinet, and everyone had some. Olivia drank cider in a wine glass and pretended to give it to Monsieur Lapin. Talk turned to sports, and the conversation was pleasant and homey.

 

Soon leftovers were brought out and set on the buffet. Using Larissa’s buns, everyone made turkey sandwiches. Jello salad and fresh cut veggies rounded out the meal. Dishes washed again and the kitchen tidied.

 

Everyone said goodnight. Eric and Shitty left just after Justin and Adam.

 

“I shall see you at school on Tuesday," he said to Olivia, giving her a little salute.

 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, she will probably be away until Wednesday. She will be visiting her other Grandparents.” His face had that tight, shuttered look again. Eric didn't pry. He didn't know the family that well yet and he didn't want to presume.

 

“All right then, Miss Olivia. I shall see you on Wednesday. We will miss you, but I hope you have a good visit with your Grandparents.” He didn't miss Jack’s eyes roll.

 

Olivia waved good-bye and then skipped off to see her grandfather. Goodnights were said and thank yous, and they climbed into the car and left.

 

Eric was so full he didn't think he’d move for a month. When Larissa and Shitty dropped him off, he waved good night and unlocked the door to his little apartment. Placing the leftovers Alicia had insisted he take in the fridge, he put the coffee pot on and curled up on the couch.

 

Funny, he thought, everyone, has little bits of themselves no one else really knows about. Just hints.

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle:** Canadian Thanksgiving is every bit as delicious as American. I don't think I will ever eat again. At least until Nov. @_@

 

From: **gd.marcus@gmail.ca**

 

Dear Mr. Bittle,

 

I would like to thank you for the lovely pictures of Marty that are on the blog. I would also like to thank you for helping Marty learn about Thanksgiving. He told me you made the turkey and pie. Your thoughtfulness and generosity will always be appreciated.

 

Gayle Marcus

 

Eric smiled at the message from Marty’s mother, completely surprised and a little confused by the change in attitude, but pleased all the same.

 

Everyone did indeed hide bits of themselves.


	6. Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to mattsloved1 for looking this over-sorry about all of the germs

_I think, ACHOO!, I have the flu._  
_I’m sneezing, and ACHOO! ACHOO!_  
_I’m not sure what, ACHOO!, to do._  
_You say, ACHOO!, don’t sneeze on you?_  
_ACHOO! Whoops. Now you’ve got it too._

_Kenn Nesbitt_

 

“Achoo!”

 

“God bless, sweetheart. Here’s a tissue. Now, what are y’all making here?” Eric squatted down to take a picture with the iPad.

 

“We’re making a ‘struction,” said Roger, sniffing.

 

“A construction? A structure?” asked Eric, handing him another tissue.

 

“Yep!” Roger stuck his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated, placing his next block just so. Unfortunately, he coughed at the wrong moment, loud and wet. The blocks underneath weren’t stable, and the whole thing toppled and narrowly missed crashing into them.

 

“Oh bugger!” said Karl and he threw one of the blocks in frustration, missing Violette, Carlee J. and Karli M., playing with the cars nearby. Violette began crying, and Carlee J. stood up, marched over and whacked Karl hard on the arm.

 

“You don't get to hurt my friend!” she shouted.

 

All the other children stopped, eyes as big as saucers, and watched, not quite sure what they were seeing.

 

Eric took Karl and Carlee by the hands and lead them over to a corner of the room to speak to them while Larissa settled the other children.

 

“Carlee, that is not acceptable. We do not hit our friends. I have told you that. Apologize to Karl.”

 

“But Mr. Bitty, he threw a brick and almost hit Violette.”

 

“Yes, he did, and I will speak with him about it. But it is not your job to give out punishments. I do appreciate that you were standing up for your friend. But we use words, not our hands. You will say sorry right now.”

 

Carlee J crossed her arms and scowled. “I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

Carlee huffed. “For hitting Karl.”

 

“Look him in the eye and say it again.”

 

“I’m sorry for hitting you, Karl.”

 

Karl shrugged. “That’s okay,” he said.

 

“No Karl, it isn't. You need to tell her, ‘I accept your apology but please don't ever hit me again.’”

 

Karl rolled his eyes but repeated Eric’s words. Then after speaking equally as sternly to Karl, Eric made him apologize to Violette, Carlee J. and Karli M.

 

Everything sorted, Eric went back to watch Roger and Karl. Parent Teacher interviews were right around the corner, and he needed to get some more documentation in everyone’s portfolios.

 

Just as he sat down on the floor beside the boys, Roger sneezed again, wiped the back of his hand on his nose and touched Eric’s hand, trying to get his attention to show him the carefully placed bridge.

 

Eric took him to the sink, washed both of their hands and had Roger blow his nose.

 

Just as he bent down to sit with the boys once more, Roger coughed, full out, right into Eric’s face.

 

“Roger, sweetheart, cough into your elbow, please.”

 

“Yes, Mr. Bitty.” Cough, cough.

 

“Roger?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Like this.” Eric showed him, pretending to cough into his elbow.

 

By second Nutrition break, Eric found Roger lying on the carpet in the reading corner, his face flushed, and his breathing wheezy, his eyes were half shut.

 

“Roger, honey, are you feeling okay?” He placed the back of his hand on Roger’s forehead. “Oh my goodness, child! You’re awfully warm. How are you feeling?”

 

“Not so good.” And he promptly sneezed in Eric’s face.

 

Eric grabbed some tissues and wiped Roger’s face and his own. He asked Larissa to take him to the office and see if Mrs. Peterson, the office administrator, would phone Roger’s home.

 

Larissa said, “Welcome to Kindergarten. The land of germs and mucus.”

 

Eric laughed and went back to watching the class.

 

After school, Eric phoned Carlee J’s mother, and they had a long talk about Carlee. Her mother said things have been a little disruptive at home and she’s always been a handful. Eric gave her some suggestions to work on Carlee’s tendency to hit first. Overall it was a satisfying phone call. He didn't call Karl’s parents because he felt they probably didn't want to hear from him again so soon and Karl hadn't meant to hurt anyone.

 

By the time he returned to the classroom, Larissa had tidied up and left. Eric stayed a little longer, organizing a few more activities to finish out the week. If he had everything ready today, he could leave early tomorrow for skating.

 

Stopping at the grocery store on the way home to pick up a few things for lunches, he also picked up some chicken to make a thank you dinner for Shitty and Larissa.

 

He stopped in front of the produce section, shaking his head at how much more expensive groceries were in Canada compared to back home. As he debated whether or not to get both the red and the green peppers, he heard a voice call out, “Mr. Bitty! Mr. Bitty!”

 

Truman and his father were also getting groceries. Eric waved and said hi.

 

“Wow, Mr. Bitty! I didn’t know you goed to the grocery store.”

 

“’Came’ or ‘went,' Truman,” said Mr. Johnston.

 

Truman grinned. “We’re making homemade pizza for supper! Mommy’s with friends having fun and Daddy and me are stuck with nuffin’ in the fridge.”

 

Eric laughed. “That sounds yummy. Do you like making pizza with your dad?”

 

“Uh huh. But I don't like touching the sauce.”

 

Mr. Johnston said, “You aren't supposed to put your hands in it, kiddo.”

 

Eric laughed again, wished them luck and continued with his shopping. He picked up four chicken breasts and decided to go back and grab a mango to go with the peppers. There was plenty of rice at home, and he’d make a fall fruit cobbler to go with it. Satisfied with his plans, he headed back to produce. Turning the corner, he ran into Jack and Olivia.

 

“Hello there. I seem to be seeing everyone tonight. How are you, Miss Olivia?”

 

She smiled shyly at him and stuck her thumb in her mouth. After Thanksgiving dinner at the Zimmermanns’, Olivia had been much more outgoing at school, but the few times Eric had run into her outside of school or even at skating, she still hesitated to speak to him.

 

Jack smiled at Olivia and then with his smile still in place looked straight at Eric. Eric’s heart did a little extra thud. The power of the Jack Zimmermann smile could make him combust and then melt into a pile of goo. He felt a little wistful, but there was no point in falling for a straight guy.

 

“How was school today, Mr. Bitty?” Jack asked, his eyes alight with interest.

 

“We had a pretty good day, didn't we? Did you tell your daddy that you painted the most amazing picture with Ms. Duan? She let you use the good paint brushes.” Eric winked at Olivia.

 

She shook her head.

 

“Do you think we can show him next time he drops you off at school? I hung it up in the hall so everyone can see.”

 

She nodded a little and then looked up at Jack.

 

“She gets her talent from her mother, don't you _poulette_?” his smile turned a little sad. He bit his lip and then said, “Olivia’s mother died when she was small. She was a painter, too.”

 

Eric knelt down so Olivia could see him better. “I’m so sorry to hear about that, Olivia. That must have been hard for you and your Daddy. Maybe you can share that with Ms. Duan sometime, about your Mama being a good artist. Her mother also loved art and taught Ms. Duan everything she knows about it.”

 

Jack also looked thoughtfully at Eric and placed his hand on Olivia’s head.

 

Taking a deep breath, he said, “Thank you again for inviting me to dinner last week. I was wondering if I could do the same for you and Olivia and your parents in November. I am planning an American Thanksgiving the weekend after since we won’t have the Thursday off here.”

 

Jack grinned at Eric’s disgruntled tone. “I think Olivia and I could make it. My parents are planning on returning to Montreal for a few weeks, so they won't be around. But we’d love to come, wouldn't we Livvy?”

 

She nodded, a smile appearing around her thumb and she leaned into her father’s leg.

 

“Your parents are going back to Montreal?”

 

“They only came to the cottage to help us settle in. They have lots of commitments back home but plan on coming back for Christmas. Maybe we could get together with them then. My father mentioned the other day how much he likes your pie.”

 

“Your father has excellent taste. I am sure I can arrange to have some extra pies that might be looking for a home come Christmas.”

 

“Are you staying here for Christmas then?”

 

“I wanted to go home, but it’s expensive. Maybe for part of it. We’ll see.”

 

Eric then declared he needed to get going. He waved goodbye, telling Olivia he’d see her tomorrow at school, a decided spring in his step as he made his way to the cash register.

 

The happy feeling continued out to the car, even though he knew Jack Zimmermann had definitely not been flirting with him.

 

The next day, Eric woke up with a little bit of a dry throat. He took some Tylenol and a couple of extra Vitamin C. After making his lunch and gathering his things, he went out to the car. The wind had a decided edge to it, sharp and crisp. Gray clouds boiled overhead, and everything felt more Novemberish than Octoberish. He ran back in to grab his hat and gloves. The playground would be cold today.

 

Roger didn't come to school and Karl as well, which made the class a whole lot quieter than Eric would have believed possible.

 

During recess, Eric couldn't stop shivering. The icy air blew right through him. When they got back in, he asked Larissa to watch the class for a bit while he grabbed a glass of water. His throat really felt sensitive.

 

At the end of the day, he checked with Larissa to see if she and Shitty would be able to come to dinner Wednesday night. She thought they were free. After he made sure everything was ready for tomorrow, he left to grab a quick bite and a latte before heading to the arena. He had a bit of a headache.

 

Skating went well. Eric didn't chat with many of the parents, but he did wave to Jack. He and Cathy had decided to move Olivia up to a different level, as she was quite a good skater. Cathy asked Jack if he wanted her to practice hockey drills as well and he said maybe in January. He just wanted her to have fun on the ice for now.

 

Tuesday made for a long day, and Eric was quite happy to head for home, his body sore and tired after being on the ice. He had a bit of schoolwork to do, so curled up on the couch but fell asleep almost right away. When he woke up a few hours later he was stiff and aching, his throat dry. He drank some juice and took another Tylenol and crawled into bed.

 

The alarm seemed exceptionally loud when it went off in the morning. He ached all over and had a hard time getting out of bed. Head pounding, he couldn't seem to think straight, and he must not have slept well. He refused to consider the possibility he might be sick.

 

He wouldn't allow it. There was too much to do, and he couldn't take time off.

 

At school, he placed his lunch in the fridge in the staff room. While he stood there trying to remember why he still had the door open, Chris came in.

 

“Oh, Eric. Are you okay? Because you don't look okay. But if you’re not okay why are you here? Should you go home? Do you want me to get someone?

 

“’M fine Chris.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

“Achoo!” Eric sneezed, just managing to catch it in his elbow.

 

“Oh, ew. Umm. Tissue?”

 

“Thanks.” Eric blew his nose, his head still pounding.

 

He made his way down to his class, where Larissa was setting some last minute work out.

 

“Uh oh! You look like shit. Okay Germ Boy, you're going home.”

 

“Wait. What? No, I can’t. I’ve got kids, and I have to teach.” But even Eric could hear how pathetic he sounded. He sniffed and then blew his nose. The dryness in his throat was morphing into raw pain.

 

Larissa reached up and felt his forehead. “You’re going home.”

“I can’t. I have to teach,” he repeated.

 

“Bits! They have supply teachers for this. Use them.”

 

“But the kids…”

 

“…will live one or two days without you.”

“But I have to plan!”

 

“You have everything practically ready for a week. We can manage. I know your routine and schedule better than you. Go home!”

 

“But…”

 

“You don't want to spread it do you?”

 

“No, but…”

 

Larissa calmly paged the office.

 

“Mrs. Petersen, can you phone for a supply? Mr. Bittle is sick and needs to go home.”

 

He whispered furiously at her, “I was going to have you and Shitty over for dinner tonight.”

 

“Put it in the freezer, and we can see about next week. Or maybe turn it into soup and make yourself better.” She held his school bag out to him.

 

Eric gave her a look of deep betrayal, checked his daybook notes one more time, grabbed his bag and walked down the hall.

Chris still stood in the staffroom when he stopped to get his lunch. “Oh, going home? Bye Eric. I hope you feel better!”

 

Eric muttered something and left.

 

The drive home felt blurred, but a strange sense of relief hit him when he pulled into his parking spot at the farmhouse. Coming in the apartment, he noticed it felt colder than usual. After unpacking his lunch and putting the chicken in the freezer, he changed into jammies and crawled into bed where he fell asleep.

 

He woke up a few hours later feeling worse. His throat was painful, his nose stuffed. Definitely warm but chilled at the same time, he shivered his way to the bathroom. After he relieved himself, he turned up the thermostat, got his favourite hoodie out and put it on over his jammies. He went into the kitchen and poured himself some orange juice. It helped, the cold juice relieving the discomfort in his throat a bit. Heating up some soup seemed like a lot of effort, and his lunch seemed unappetizing. He toasted some bread and put some jam on it. Too tired and dizzy to do much else, he poured another glass of juice and sat down to watch TV.

 

After flipping through the channels, he finally found one devoted to home renovations. There was absolutely nothing else on he wanted to watch. Wishing he’d thought to bring some of his DVDs with him when he’d moved here, instead he was stuck watching couples argue whether or not they were going to stay in their newly renovated home or move to a new one. He covered himself up with the afghan his MooMaw had made for him. Only getting up to get more juice and use the bathroom, he dozed away the day.

 

The feeling of being too warm and too cold and overly emotional finally convinced him he really was quite sick. He felt a little sorry for himself and wished his mother lived closer. She’d come over with soup and make him a hot lemon drink. She’d check to see if he had enough juice. He almost cried when he saw he’d drunk it all.

 

“I am a grown ass man! I do not need my mother to look after me!” He said out loud to the empty apartment. But that didn't mean he didn't still wish she were here.

 

He got some water instead and then phoned the school and asked Mrs. Petersen to see if the same teacher she arranged for today could come in tomorrow. She said she’d already booked her.

 

“Eric, I have been at this school almost thirty years and have seen it all. I know when a teacher starts out they have no immune system for all the germs that invade their bodies. You stay home tomorrow and maybe even Friday. Stay home and get better.”

 

“Okay,” his voice came out sounding rougher than he’d thought it’d been before.

 

He hung up and pulled the afghan up higher and continued watching crap television.

 

The light faded from the sky, and he knew he should get up and make something for supper, but he didn't have any energy. His doze turned into something heavier, and he didn't stir until a noise woke him. It sounded a lot like someone knocking.

 

Wrapping the afghan tighter, he shuffled to the door. If he moaned a little bit, there was no one to hear him. By the time he unlocked the door, whoever had been there had left. He didn't think he’d been that long, but he must have been more out of it than he realized.

 

About to shut the door, he noticed a large brown bag had been left on the step. He brought it in the house and opened it up.

 

There was a note.

 

_Heard you were sick. Thought you might like someone to bring you some soup. My mother made it and she swears it will cure anything. I know you like coffee better but here's a thermos of peppermint tea, shot with ginger and honey. I always drank it before a game if I was under the weather. Hope you feel better soon._

_Jack and Olivia_

 

Eric pulled out a large container of soup and a thermos which were both still warm. There was also a bottle of juice and some ginger ale as well as what looked like homemade biscuits.

 

Eric stood in the tiny kitchen, his eyes welling up a bit. He transferred about a third of the soup into a pot to heat on the stove and poured some of the tea into a mug and heated it in the microwave.

 

The tea and the soup were just about perfect. The soup was a nice, brothy chicken with large bowtie noodles. He was certain there was ginger in it as well as peppercorns. It loosened his chest. The biscuits were good too, maybe not as good as his but still most appreciated. The tea eased his throat so much better than coffee would have and just what he needed.

 

Just as he was reheating his second cup of tea his phone chimed. Opening it, he saw it was a DM on twitter from Jack.

 

_I just thought I should let you know there’s a package on your porch in case you missed it. I had to hurry to pick up Olivia at the bus stop so I couldn't stay to make sure you got it. I hope you are feeling better._

**realjzimmermann**

 

_Thank you so much. That is just about the kindest thing anyone’s done for me. Feeling a bit better, but I won't be in school tomorrow. Tell Olivia I’m sorry._

**ericbittle**

_You should know, she’s not feeling well. I don't think she’ll be at school tomorrow, either._

**realjzimmermann**

_Oh no! I hope she feels better soon. (_ _︶︹︺)_

**ericbittle**

 

_She’s having some of the same soup._

**realjzimmermann**

 

_Tell your mother thank you. That soup was amazing. I would love the recipe if she’ll let me have it._

**ericbittle**

 

_I’ll ask but she won't even share it with me. She’s pretty stubborn._

**realjzimmermann**

 

_Oh that’s okay, but please tell her thank you and thank you, too. It’s just what I needed._

**ericbittle**

 

_You’re welcome. Now turn off your phone and go to sleep. Can't teach if you’re sick. Can’t sleep if you're on the phone._

**realjzimmermann**

 

 _You started this conversation! Night Jack. Sleep well! Olivia, too._ (ᴗ˳ᴗ)

**ericbittle**

 

_Night_

**realjzimmermann**

 

Eric put the dishes in the sink, got some more water and Tylenol and padded off to bed. Hoping he’d feel better in the morning, he started to slip under with a smile on his face, the conversation with Jack Zimmermann still in his thoughts. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he jolted awake.

 

_That couldn't have been what I thought it was. He was not flirting. Stop it this instant. You are feverish and sick._

 

Still, a boy could dream.


	7. Trick or Treat

_Trick or Treat_

_Witches, ghosts, and goblins,_

_Stealing down the street,_

_Knock on every doorway,_

_Trick or treat!_

_When your door is opened,_

_This is what you meet,_

_Scary creatures shouting,_

_Trick or treat!_

_Author Unknown_

Eric’s flu finally went away, although it left him with laryngitis for about a week after returning to school. Cathy let him off skating on Saturday and Tuesday.

 

The end days of October were gorgeous. Trees decked out in their best, skies clear and blue, nights frosty and the stars sparkled brilliant diamonds. Every morning Eric had to scrape the frost off of his car he mentally thanked Larissa and Shitty for making sure he had what he needed for the coming winter months. They’d finally come over for a thank you supper and games night.

 

Halloween fell on a Wednesday and Eric, and Larissa commiserated over having to deal with small children on a sugar crash on the Thursday and Friday following. Larissa suggested they go for a long walk each day looking for signs of fall and hopefully wear the kids out.

 

“Let’s pray for good weather,” said Eric.

 

“We’re taking them out even if it’s pouring rain. Trust me.”

 

Eric sent off a quick note to the families on the blog.

 

_We are dressing up in Orange and Black on Wednesday. The school asks that students, please do not bring costumes, as they may get lost. Please bring a healthy or fun snack for our afternoon party. We will also be making crafts and playing games throughout the day. After Halloween, we ask parents not to pack extra candy in the students' lunches to save everyone’s sanity. Thank you._

 

The energy level ramped up the days leading up until reaching explosive proportions. Not a day went by that the students didn't discuss their costumes and where they would go trick or treating. Many of them lived in small towns and villages that fed into the school, but some lived on farms. The town kids usually went through their neighbourhoods, and the farm kids would either only go to a few houses on back roads or meet up with friends and drive into a nearby town.

 

The Tuesday before Halloween, Eric came off the ice after figure skating and chatted with a few parents. A group waited for power skating while the Zamboni cleaned the ice. Discussing what constituted a healthy snack with Roger’s mother, he didn't notice Jack right away until he touched his arm.

 

“Hi,” he said.

 

Eric smiled, “Hi yourself.”

 

“Glad to see you’re feeling better. And, you know, you don't sound like a fog horn so much.”

 

“Ha ha, Mr. Zimmermann, who thinks he’s so funny.”

 

Jack stood awkwardly for a moment and then rushed into a speech that sounded a little rehearsed. “Um, I was wondering. I’m having a few friends over Saturday, Shitty and ‘Ris, Justin and Adam and a few others, people you know. Sort of an after Halloween party. You don't have to come if you don't want.”

 

Eric felt his face flush. He needed to calm his hormones down.

 

“Is it a costume party?”

 

“Oh no, nothing like that. Just having some people over. I, uh, thought we could have one last bonfire on the beach before winter sets in. So dress warm, eh?”

 

Eric smiled. “Sure, that’ll be great. I’ll bring food.”

 

“Oh yeah, that’s great.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Livvy’s going to her grandparents so, adults only.”

 

“What time should I be over?”

 

“Say about six?”

 

“If I don't see you at school or skating, I’ll see you then.”

 

“Okay, um, well, bye.”

 

“Bye Jack.”

 

Eric knew, he just knew, Jack was just being nice. He liked to look after people he considered friends, and since Eric was friends with Jack’s friends, he’d been pulled into his circle. But it felt so good to be included and to have things to do. The rural parts of Ontario were beautiful and for the most part friendly, but the boredom level rated high on the entertainment meter unless you were into hunting or tractors or hunting on tractors. Except for trips into the city, there wasn’t a lot to do. Eric didn't even notice he hummed the rest of the evening until Cheryl winked at him. He shushed her.

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle:** If you’re in my class, stop by my place on Halloween and get an extra special treat. (˼●̙̂ ̟ ̟̎ ̟ ̘●̂˻)

 

Dressed as Thor, to the delight of his students, Eric handed out homemade caramel apples, each wrapped in cellophane with his name and number on so parents knew the treat was safe.

 

The Kindergarten class walked more times around the school grounds and through the nature trail than they had all year. Eric and ‘Ris confiscated candy from children’s lunches and asked them to save it for second nutrition break, so they weren’t high on sugar all day.

 

After skating on Saturday, Eric spent the day baking up a storm.

 

He made caramel fudge brownies, three kinds of pie and the special three-cheese dip with homemade pita chips he’d perfected back home. The afternoon he dedicated to cutting out heart-shaped cookies and decorated them to look like spooky characters. Even adults like fun cookies to eat for Halloween.

 

Everything was packed up in containers and ready to go. Rummaging in his closet, he pulled out everything warm he owned and began layering. The forecast said it would be clear tonight, but cold. He broke out the package of thermal underwear. Warm pants, a black t-shirt under a bright red sweater, his new warm jacket, scarf, gloves, new boots and a beanie completed the outfit.

Pulling into the driveway at the cottage, he saw Shitty and ‘Ris were already there and noticed Adam and Justin’s car, Chris and Caitlin’s and a couple of others he didn't recognize.

 

Juggling the many containers, he managed to close the car door with his foot and walked up the sidewalk. Wondering how he would manage to open it, he tried to ring the doorbell with his elbow when it sprang open.

 

“You're here. Come in, let me help you with those,” said Jack, almost breathless. He helped Eric take everything into the kitchen and then got him a drink, a thick, rich hot chocolate laced with peppermint Schnapps.

 

They went out the sliding doors onto the deck and then down the stairs to the base near the edge where the sand started. A large seating area surrounded a fire pit. Lots of people were sitting around, and the light cast a glow on the scene. Almost everyone had a blanket over their laps.

 

Shitty stood up and hugged Eric tight. “Brahski! So glad you are here! It wouldn't be a party without Mr. Bitty.” He gave him a kiss on the cheek. Eric, laughing, shoved him off and told him to go back to sitting beside ‘Ris.

 

Jack introduced him to two men Eric didn't know, William Poindexter and Derek Nurse, old teammates of his who were staying at the cottage for a few days. They were newly married and on the way to Toronto to fly out on their honeymoon, stopping by Jack’s place to see him.

 

Eric waved at Justin and Adam. Chris leaned over and handed him a toasted marshmallow, and Eric asked Caitlin how things were. He hadn't seen her for a while. They chatted a bit about work.

 

Eric tried not to be too aware of Jack in the circle. Despite trying to ignore and not stare at him like some darn fool, he couldn't help but notice him. He tried to pay attention to the conversation while straining to hear Jack speak at the same time.

 

Chris asked Eric if he’d handed in his reports yet.

 

“Almost. I need to go over them one more time. I’m so glad I don't have to do a whole class set and can just concentrate on the SKs. ‘Ris’s been awesome. She helped me craft some of the language and get the comments just right, you know, the ones where you’re trying to break it gently that their child has issues.”

 

“Nope, no, nu-huh. No talking shop you two! We’re here to have fun and not think about work. Besides, there’s a parent present, and we don't want him to know any of our secrets,” said Justin.

 

“Haha, yes, well, she won't be getting a report card yet, so I think I’m safe.”

 

Jack looked at Eric, his eyes earnest. “You’d tell me, though, wouldn't you?”

 

“Tell you what?”

 

“If Olivia had issues?”

 

“Of course. You don't have anything to worry about. She’s incredible. Very smart. Knows a lot of things other kids don't.”

 

“But I do worry,” Jack said.

 

“You can come in and see me sometime after school. Send a note with Olivia, and we can set up a time. I can show you what I have so far, and you can ask me about her work.”

 

Jack smiled, slow and sweet. “I’d like that.”

 

Eric felt his face burn and hoped no one noticed in the light from the flames.

 

“Okay one more mention of school and you’ll have to forfeit, Zimmermann.”

 

“Forfeit what?” Eric asked, confused.

 

“We have rules about what we talk about at our get togethers,” Adam said. “If you talk about work you pay in entertainment. Also if you get into a violent disagreement.” He glared at William and Derek, confusing Eric. “Jokes, charades, trivia are the usual payment. One night we did improve. Ho, that was incredibly entertaining and very, very bad.” Adam laughed. “What’s the payment tonight, Chris? Chris keeps track.”

 

Chris took out his phone. “Music. Caitlin and Adam both brought guitars, so we are good to go.”

 

“That might actually be worthwhile. My young Bits, you have yet to hear the call of the magnificent vocal strains of our dear Captain Jack. He is a world-class crooner, and I swear I have wet dreams just from hearing his voice.” Shitty’s eyebrows waggled up and down.

 

“Too much information, Shits,” Jack muttered.

 

After that each little group chatted about their own thing, occasionally someone would forget, and everyone would pause while Adam and Caitlin backed up whichever person had crossed a line into discussing forbidden topics, which not only included work but politics and sports other than hockey. A hat passed to the unfortunate trespasser, and a song was pulled out. If they didn't know the words, someone hastily looked up the lyrics and gave their phone to them. Eric laughed over Chris’s rendition of _Rude Boy_ and thoroughly enjoyed Adam and Justin’s combined voices as they sang _Hotel California_. They’d started an argument about Harry Potter, which Justin had refused to read, simply on principle and Adam said it might be grounds for divorce.

 

“If we ever have kids, I am going to make you read those books to them.” Justin leaned in and kissed Adam long and hard after that, amid wolf whistles and chants of ‘get a room.' They ended up having to sing again, this time Puff the Magic Dragon. Eric told them they’d be welcome to come to the kindergarten room sometime and entertain his class.

 

Jack and Adam began a discussion of _Game of Thrones_. Adam had made Jack binge watch the first season last year. Jack said he’d rather liked the show, but couldn't follow because Adam insisted on telling him all the behind the scenes stories and trivia posted on IMDb and how each episode differed from the books. They ended up singing _Ahead By A Century_ by The Tragically Hip a group Eric hadn't heard of, but Shitty told him he’d better learn about if he wanted to continue to live in Canada. Their voices were very nice together; Jack’s a surprisingly lovely baritone.

Trying very hard not to discuss any of the taboo subjects, but seeing as he was on his third hot chocolate and Schnapps, Eric could perhaps have been excused from leaning towards ‘Ris and asking her if she remembered to send the email about the Primary meeting they were having next week. If he thought he’d get off of paying the forfeit, he was mistaken.

 

“Sing, sing, sing!” came the chant.

 

Eric blushed and reached in to pull out a song. He opened up the folded piece of paper and to his delight written on it was Halo. He looked at ‘Ris, and she grinned. She’d been in charge of the hat all night.

 

He looked at Adam and Caitlin who began the first few bars as an intro and nodded at him when he could start. Deciding to make it worth his while, he stood up and sang with all his might.

_Remember those walls I built_

_Well, baby, they're tumbling down_

_And they didn't even put up a fight_

_They didn't even make a sound_

 

Near the end, Shitty decided to join in and sing in what he thought was harmony. In the end, there was a smattering of applause, and everyone discussed whether Shitty should pay a fine, but decided against it because they’d be the ones punished by his singing.

 

Eric laughed and snuck a glance at Jack. Jack looked right at him and grinned, his hands still clapping.

 

The fire began to die down, and the wind picked up, so everyone moved indoors where Jack lit the fire in the fireplace and Eric, Chris and Caitlin set the food out on the kitchen counters. Everyone had brought something, and there was almost too much. Feeling he should be the one in charge of making sure everyone had enough to eat, Eric filled his plate last. By the time he went back into the living room, the only spot left was right next to Jack. He marched and sat down beside him.

 

Talk turned to different things, and although the occasional song rang out, it didn't happen as often.

 

Alcohol loosened Eric’s tongue, and he dared to ask Jack why he’d decided to move back here when he could have stayed in the US. Jack told him his parents had offered him the use of their cottage until he could figure out what he wanted to do. It let them see him and Olivia, and it was close to her other grandparents. Jack’s face got that familiar pinched look talking about his in-laws. Eric didn't want to press, but Jack said, “They never really approved of me, especially after Camellia died and I came out as bi-sexual. Camellia had known, but her parents are very conservative and hadn't approved.”

 

“Oh Jack, I’m so sorry.”

 

Jack shrugged. “They tried to sue for custody of Olivia after, on moral grounds, but that sort of thing doesn't hold much water here. We came to an agreement. I retain full custody, and they get to see her. It's not perfect, but I wouldn’t deny them the right to see their granddaughter. They aren't allowed to speak poorly of me nor I them. I tell Olivia they have different ideas about people than I do, but that I will always answer any questions she has about them or me. Sometimes I really want to say what I really think of them. Petty, eh?”

 

“No, you’re not. You are very forgiving. I would be so angry. Jack, thank you so much for trusting me with this. It will help me understand Olivia and what she might be going through.”

 

“I guess I should have let you know sooner.”

 

“No. You have to tell when you're ready. It does help to know why she might be sad or lonely or confused, but if you don't want to go into details with other teachers, you could say you have special arrangements with her grandparents, and she may have a hard time sometimes. The fact that her mother died can be difficult enough, and most teachers would be understanding.”

 

Warmth chased away a few of the shadows in Jack’s blue eyes as he smiled at Eric.

 

Jack asked Eric about his childhood. Eric told him about growing up in Georgia and learning to cook from his MooMaw, skipped over most of his time in school and some of the bullying that went on, just saying they moved after he had had some trouble. Jack asked about his skating. Thinking for a minute about how much to tell, he decided he’d be safe with saying he’d dropped out due to a combination of distance from his skating coach after they’d moved and an incident that had happened at the Juniors with another skater.

 

“It, well, it seemed I really liked him, but he wasn’t as interested as I thought. We’d seen each other a lot on the circuit, and we were practicing at the same rink. That happens a lot when you move up the ranks. There aren't many rinks that specialize in training Olympic class skaters. And, well, I guess I fell a bit harder than I should have.” He looked down into his mostly empty hot chocolate mug. “I maybe went too far too fast. I think he may have been trying to rattle me a bit, make me throw my program. Funnily enough, neither of us ended up in skating, although he was very good. He went into hockey, and I decided to become a teacher.” Eric smiled at Jack, trying to keep the bitterness out. “I loved skating so much, but so much had interfered with it, made it joyless. Teaching’s turned out to be a greater joy than I thought possible so perhaps it was worth it in the end.”

 

Jack looked thoughtful. “Who was he? You said he went into hockey. Perhaps I know him.”

 

“No shop talk!” Adam called out.

 

“But I don't play hockey anymore!”

 

“Doesn't matter. Do we need Shitty to remind you of the rules?”

 

A loud groan from all assembled quickly put an end to that. ‘Ris passed Jack the hat. Eric swore she winked at him.

 

Jack pulled the folded piece of paper out and opened it. A slow blush crept over his face, and he looked at ‘Ris. She looked back at him expressionlessly.

 

“Did you put this in here?”

 

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Fine, fine.”

 

Jack stood up and walked over to Adam, showing him the slip. Adam’s eyebrow rose, he glanced at Eric and laughed.

 

“Bro, you’re in deep.” He and Caitlin started picking out a few chords and swung into the opening bars of a song that Eric knew he knew but couldn't place until Jack began to sing, slow and sweet.

 

_Georgia, Georgia_

_The whole day through_

_Just an old sweet song_

_Keeps Georgia on my mind_

_I said Georgia, Georgia_

_A song of you_

_Comes as sweet and clear_

_As moonlight through the pines_

_Other arms reach out to me_

_Other eyes smile tenderly_

_Still, in peaceful dreams I see_

_The road leads back to you_

 

At the end, it was very quiet in the living room, with sly glances back and forth among those who had been paying attention. Eric felt his face burn brighter. Jack smiled at him and shook his head, laughing. He wagged a finger in ‘Ris’s direction and sat back down by Eric. Eric didn't know what to say and kept shooting glances at Jack who continued to smile.

 

All too soon people started to get up to leave. Most had picked a designated driver and were safe to go. ‘Ris and Shitty were staying, neither wanting to give up an evening at Jack’s with friends and alcohol. Besides they were both out on the deck with Derek, enjoying a smoke of something Eric knew wasn’t tobacco.

 

Jack packed up the remaining food while Eric tidied the kitchen. Neither said anything much to the other, the feeling between them was expectant. Eric wondered if what he thought was true was indeed true and if he should make a move or if Jack would. Not sure what to do with his hands, Eric had wiped down the counter more times than necessary. After it started to be ridiculous, he folded the dishcloth and leaned back against the counter.

 

“So.”

 

“So?”

 

“So is this where you ask me if it’s okay to kiss me or is this where I ask you?”

 

“I think I get to ask you.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Are you?”

 

Jack chuckled and stepped closer to Eric. “I am sure. May I kiss you?”

 

The doorbell rang, but Jack ignored it.

 

“Aren't you going to get that?”

 

“No. It's probably Adam or Justin. Most likely one of them locked the keys in the car. They do that.” He leaned in a bit closer.

 

“Are you all right with kissing your daughter’s teacher?”

 

“Are you all right with kissing one of your student’s parents?”

 

He was most definitely all right with that. He opened his mouth to say so when the doorbell rang again.

 

“Sweet baby Jeebus, Zimmermann, answer your fucking door,” Shitty shouted as he marched past the kitchen and down the hall.

 

Eric licked his lips, dimly aware of the sound of Shitty opening the door and enthusiastically greeting someone.

 

“I think I’d like that kiss now.”

 

Jack leaned in, tilting his head a bit, just about to kiss him, when they both froze at the sound of a very familiar voice.

 

“Well if it isn't my two favourite people in the whole world, getting all cozy together. Zimms, I came by to seeing how retirement was treating you and I see it’s treating you quite well. Eric Bittle, I haven't seen you in years, and here you’re just about to kiss one of my oldest friends. Ain’t it a small world?”

 

Eric’s head whipped around, his heart clenched. The last person he’d ever expected to see stood in the doorway.

 

“Kenny?” at the same time as Jack said, “Parson?”

 

They looked at each other and back to Kent Parson, familiar shit-eating-grin on his face, hands in his coat pocket.

 

“Boys. How’s it hanging?”

 

 


	8. The First Snowflakes of Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when your fight is cancelled twice (twice) and you are leaving two days after you were suppose to (two days) and you are on the phone a total of 4 and a half hours trying to make changes (4 and a half) you have time to finish a chapter:P I will, hopefully, be gone for a couple of weeks (if I get there) so the next chapter will be a while.
> 
> This one is dedicated to the lovely copgirl who is waiting patiently for me to join her in Nova Scotia.

_The First Snowflakes of Winter_

_Everybody says to catch_

_the first snowflakes of winter._

_They say those snowflakes_

_taste the best, you see._

_I’ve tried it every single year._

_I’m missing something big, I fear,_

_for what I catch_

_just tastes like ice to me._

_The Big Book of Classroom Poems._

 

 

Nope.

 

This couldn't be happening.

 

People from the past, people, unsuccessfully forgotten, don’t just show up when some kissing was about to happen.

 

Nope.

 

Eric dimly wondered if southwestern Ontario experienced many earthquakes because the kitchen seemed to be shaking.

 

No, wait, that was him.

 

Shitty stood in his peripherals just behind Kenny with his mouth open.

 

He didn't remember gathering his things as quickly as he could and throwing on his coat. Damn it, there didn’t seem to be a clever way to exit a house in a rage while trying to put on winter gear and carrying containers.

 

This would have worked out so much better in Georgia.

 

Both Jack and Kenny tried to stop him.

 

“Now Eric, don't be like that.”

 

“Eric, wait, you shouldn't…”

 

“No. No. I am _fine_. You,” he said to Kenny, “do not get to talk to me. Ever. And you,” he turned to Jack, “thank you for the lovely evening.” He somehow managed to open the door, but the slamming of it didn't quite happen.

 

Shitty followed him out to the car.

 

Eric threw his containers into the trunk and opened the driver’s door.

 

“You shouldn't be driving.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“No, you’re not. You had a lot to drink, and you seem to be upset.”

 

“Upset? Upset? What would make you think I was upset? Just because I’m about to kiss someone I really like, and an old friend happens to walk in on us and Oh! Guess what? He turns out to be just as much of an old friend of Jack’s! Nooo, I am not upset! I am livid.”

 

Eric tried to get into the car, but Shitty blocked him.

 

“You are not driving. I’m calling Justin. He’s gonna come get you and take you home. Ris’ or I can bring you your car tomorrow.”

 

Eric threw up his hands. “Fine. Fine, just get me out of here.”

 

Shitty made sure he didn't try to climb into the car while he carefully while he punched in Justin’s number. Adam answered. They weren’t too far from the cottage. Shitty told him something had come up and Eric needed a lift home.

 

Eric stood with his arms wrapped around his middle hoping he wouldn't either throw up or go back into the house and punch Kenny. But he didn't want to go inside and confront him, not in front of Jack. Dear God. Jack. How the hell did this happen? Of course he knew Kenny. They played hockey.

 

After what seemed much longer than it was, they heard the sound of a car in the driveway.

 

“Yo, Bits and Shits,” giggled Adam, slightly inebriated. “What’s up?”

 

Shitty leaned in and explained that someone had shown up at Jack’s and Eric needed to get home. They were sternly told not to ask any questions.

 

The ride home stayed quiet. Adam turned around once, opened his mouth to ask Eric a question, Eric just glared, arms crossed, and he quickly turned back.

 

Justin pulled up to the back of the farmhouse. Eric got out.

 

“Thank you. See you on Monday.” He could feel them look at each other as he climbed his steps.

 

Justin waited until Eric entered and then drove off.

 

He turned on the lights and stood there not sure what to do.

 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck! Fuck.”

 

The tears he’d been clamping down on sprang into his eyes, and there was no holding back now he was home.

 

After a good cry, he changed into his sleep shirt and flannels, crawled into bed, clutching Senor Bun tight. Emotionally spent, he fell asleep pretty quick.

 

Morning came, and he was still exhausted. Not hung over but he’d had enough to drink to make him grumpy. His dreams had been anxious and weird. Kenny and Jack flitting in and out of them and ‘Ris telling him he should just punch them both.

 

“Not helpful. And why would I punch Jack? Kenny needs a good smack, bless his heart,” he muttered. “Coffee, lots of coffee today.” He pulled out his expensive coffee, his emergency bag of special blend and decided to make a whole pot. Then he would clean and bake. Nothing left from last night or very little and it was all in the trunk of his car anyway.

 

So what to bake? Something healthy for the class who would still be feeling the effects of sugar saturation, something not too complicated but tricky enough to keep him occupied.

 

He pulled out his healthy granola bar recipe to see if he had the ingredients. All the things he needed for quinoa and chia seed bars were there, fortunately, because heaven only knew when he’d get his car back.

 

After a good solid breakfast of eggs and toast, he made up the first batch. After mixing the ingredients and forming them on parchment paper, into the fridge, they went while he cleaned every surface and the floors. In between, he pulled the bars out and put in the next batch. There were granola bars on every surface. Once they hardened, he put them into air tight containers. Laundry sorted and started bathroom cleaned, and schoolwork came next. Avoiding thinking about what had happened last night was good.

 

He didn’t even want to think about almost kissing Jack. In the cold light of morning or at least the slightly sunny midday, he wasn’t sure kissing a parent of one of his students was necessarily a good thing.

 

Maybe Kenny interrupting them was for the best.

 

“Ha! Nothing about Kenny is for the best!”

 

He frowned. Now that wasn’t honest. They’d had some good times, and if Kenny hadn't dumped him, he wouldn't have turned to teaching, and if he hadn’t become a teacher, he wouldn't have come here to meet ‘Ris, and Shitty and the rest and his class whom he loved.

 

And Jack.

 

The doorbell rang.

 

He wiped his hands and opened the door. A cold wind pushed Larissa and Shitty into his small entryway. They carried his keys, his containers and a couple of pizzas.

 

“Bro! What is that fucking delectable smell? Please tell me you were baking and that I can eat some?”

 

With a creaky smile, Eric took their coats and led them to his tiny living room. He grabbed plates and napkins, got some non-alcoholic drinks and sat down.

 

No one seemed to want to say much of anything, and they were skirting around the night before when they did.

 

“Okay, so look, we’re all sitting here, awkward as fuck, and I know it’s none of our fucking business, but m’man, if you want to dump, we’re here for you, yanno?”

 

Eric put down the slice of pizza with a sigh. He fiddled with his napkin a bit.

 

“Okay, look, I know I don't have to tell y’all a thing, but I think I might explode and seeing as I just cleaned…” He stopped speaking for a minute, his feeble attempt at a joke hanging there.

 

“This goes no further than the two of you. You can't tell Jack, kay? Or Justin, or Adam, no one.”

 

“Dude,” Shitty began, before ‘Ris elbowed him, “shutting up now.”

 

 

“Long time ago, when I went to Juniors, I was about 16 or so, I met a guy on the circuit. He was a bit older than me, but he was funny and really energetic and hot as fuck and,” he took a deep breath, “he seemed to like me. Not a lot of people did. He understood me and let me be me, you know? We hit it off, friends first but then we were kind of…”

 

“Sleeping together?”

 

Another elbow, this one harder.

 

‘No! God no, but we did fool around a bit. I really liked him. But then just before competition, like within minutes of me going out onto the ice, he breaks it off. Like it meant nothings. Sort of ‘See ya around kid’ kinda breaking it off. I go out on to the ice and flub it. Big time. I was good, really good, good enough that I could have gone a bit further, maybe not Olympics but anyway.” Eric looked at his hands. They were shaking a bit, but he felt relieved to tell someone finally. He’d lived with it long enough.

 

“Anyway, that guy was Kent Parson.”

 

“Dude!”

 

‘Ris just nodded, not as if she knew but like it made sense.

 

“So. I like Jack. Like a lot. And I didn't know he liked me. And so I know we were, or at least I was a bit drunk, but I think we were about to kiss when in walks Kenny and it turns out he knows Jack too. I don't know how much or how well but I can guess.”

 

‘Ris and Shitty looked at each other. ‘Ris shrugged and said,” Yeah we can’t say much ‘cause that’s on Jack, but yeah, you’re not wrong.”

 

“Holy shit, was he mad last night," said Shitty. "I haven’t ever seen him that angry. After you'd left, he tore a strip and back again off of Kent. But yeah, I can't say anymore.” He mimed zipping his lips.

 

‘Ris rolled her eyes. “Look, Bits, know that Jack does dig you, but he may not know how to tell you. He’s a bit of an emotionally stunted robot sometimes. He might back off until you make a move.”

 

Eric folded his arms. He nodded. “Yeah. It’s for the best anyway, what with me teaching Olivia. Thanks for listening.”

 

After a while, they got up to go. Eric saw them to the door Snow was gently falling and a small amount had accumulated on the cars.

 

‘Ris jumped off of the top step and beckoned to Eric. “Come on, Bits. It’s the first snow. Catch some. It’s good luck!”

 

In spite of hating every bit of cold entering his body, he went out onto the small patch of lawn, out under the grey sky and opened his mouth wide until a big fat flake landed on his tongue.

 

He smiled.

 

 **Teacher, Please @ericbittle:** Hope everyone dresses properly tomorrow. It looks like we’re getting the first snow of the season. {{{{(+＿+)}}}}

 

Back to school on Monday, and with one quick “We will not talk about it.” to Justin, no one brought up what happened Saturday at Jack’s.

 

The first week of November came in cold and miserable. The wind blew through the playground, and everyone came in chilled and damp, but with rosy cheeks. Snow fell in dribs and drabs, and the ground froze. The climbers and swings were taped off for winter. No one would be allowed back on them until spring and the ground thawed again. And until more snow, deep snow came, he found the children having a harder time finding things to do to keep themselves out of mischief. He brought out the tricycles for the younger children and placing cones around one section of the blacktop to make a little area for some of the students. He also bought some sidewalk chalk at the dollar store and pulled extra skipping ropes and hula-hoops from the gym cupboard. Soccer was always on the go, so that took care of a lot of the busier students. He had permission to let some of the children construct a fort of sorts under the trees in the back corner. He found a couple of old tarps and as long as they didn't hide under them they could build a shelter just above their heads. With the promise sticks wouldn't be used for hitting, Eric helped them place sticks as a pretend campfire and to use to outline their rooms. Soon other kids wanted one too so Eric set up a schedule for when everyone could have a turn and bought a few more tarps with understanding that when heavy snow came, they’d have to be taken down. Some older students helped gathered leaves fallen from the trees and made jumping piles.

 

At the end of recess, everyone gathered up the balls and ropes and toys and put them in the large bin just outside the door and trooped inside. The noise in the hall echoed as the horde of children made their way back to their classrooms. Eric slipped his coat and hat off and threw them on the chair by his desk. He helped the children hang up their coats, showed them how to tuck their mitts and hats in their coat sleeves so they wouldn't get lost, tied about four pairs of shoes. Helped Marty with a stuck zipper and made sure everyone put on their indoor shoes. They all trooped over to the carpet for calendar time.

 

The days passed as they always did, slow and steady. Eric had a new task of finding something suitable for the solemn Remembrance Day ceremony that would take place with the whole school in the gym on the 9th. He told the students how they had to be very quiet and very respectful. They talked about the wars and the soldiers and how they had to honour those who had fought and who still served.

 

He tried very hard not to think about Jack. Olivia didn’t seem any different, still her quiet self, but no indication that Jack must hate him for knowing Kenny, knowing about Kenny.

 

Not that a small child would know those things, but still.

 

He was sitting at the writing table with Olivia and some of the other students. They had drawn pictures in their writing journals, and he was helping them sound out words.

 

A commotion over at blocks drew his attention away.

 

It was Karl. Again.

 

He was swearing. Again.

 

“Karl, come here please.”

 

Karl scowled and threw his block down. Fortunately it didn't hit either Jake or Shreya.

 

“What have we talked about? Please do not use those words.”

 

“But Mr. Bitty, Daddy says bugger isn't as bad as some of the other words.”

 

“I know, hun, but you just can't say them. I am afraid you’re going to have to come and sit with me for a bit, and we’ll have to let Jake and Shreya play without you.”

 

With a pout, Karl sat down on the floor, crossed his arms and began crying. Eric bit his lip.

 

“I’m sorry, but I’ve spoken to you about this. You need to learn not to swear at school. Here, come and sit by me.”

 

Karl shifted closer to Eric but didn't sit in the chair offered to him. Eric carefully reached behind to one of the shelves and got out a new box of markers.

 

“Hmmm. Look at this. It seems as if I forgot about these new markers. I just love drawing with new markers. I wonder if I could draw a picture with them.”

 

He took a new piece of paper from the basket. Tilting his head, he gave the paper some consideration.

 

“Let me see; maybe I can draw a picture of the playground. Hmmm, no, not that. Maybe a picture of the hockey rink. No. What about a picture of a pickup truck?”

 

He could see Karl out of the corner of his eye pretend not to look up at Eric when he mentioned pick up truck.

 

He picked up the red marker. Red was Karl’s favourite colour. He drew a respectable pickup truck. He added black tires and carefully coloured the windshield blue. He pulled out the yellow and added some hay bales in the back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Karl sit up on his knees.

 

“There! That looks great. What do you think?” He titled the paper so Karl could see.

 

“You need some ground.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Because Miss Duan says you can't have things floating in the air if they’re not supposed to. You need ground.”

 

“Well, Miss Duan is pretty smart.” He could see ‘Ris smile at him from across the room. “I guess I should add some ground.” He smiled and then asked Karl. “What if it was a flying truck? I could make it a flying truck; then I wouldn't need ground.”

 

“Then you should add sky and clouds and birds, maybe.”

 

“Wow! That’s a great idea. Do you want to help?”

 

Karl nodded, wiped his tears and his nose on his sleeve and climbed on Eric’s lap. Eric passed him a tissue and watched as Karl added to the picture.

 

He felt someone watching him and glanced up to see Jack standing in the doorway, smiling at him. He flushed, but carefully extricated himself from Karl and went to greet Jack.

 

“Hello, did you come to pick up Olivia?”

 

“Yes. I, uh, I wondered if it would be okay for me to come and see Olivia's work? If you’re not busy.”

 

“No, I mean yes, it’s okay. Can you wait until I get the kids on the bus?”

 

Jack nodded, the smile still sitting quietly on his mouth.

 

Eric called to the class to tidy up, and with the help of Jack and ‘Ris and the bus, monitors got the students ready. He offered his hand to Karl and walked him out to his bus, stopping him before he got on. “I’m not mad at you, Karl. I want you to know that. Sometimes it takes a long time to break a bad habit. Someone once told me it takes fifty times not doing something or doing something to make a new habit. Maybe we can try something new tomorrow. But I want you to try really hard to watch what comes out of your mouth, okay?”

 

“Okay, Mr., Bitty.” He flung his arms out and hugged Eric hard. Eric gave him a squeeze. “Now skedaddle. Don't make the bus driver wait for you. See you tomorrow.” He waved at him and turned to go back into the classroom.

 

With a whole lot of nervousness and a smattering of anxiety, he walked into the classroom to see Jack and find out if they were going to talk about more than just Olivia.

 


	9. Remembrance Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost a year. I am so sorry!! I think being out of the school system made it hard to get back into the groove of this story.  
> Thanks to redscudery for once again providing me with translations. Translations at the end
> 
> In Canada Remembrance Day is on the 11th of November just as elsewhere. Sadly it is no longer a statutory holiday.  
> Also Olivia tells Eric she visited the Montreal Biodome which is pretty cool but sadly it is closed until 2019 for renovations. When it reopens go see it!

_Little Poppy_

_Little poppy_

_Given to me,_

_Help me keep_

_Canada_

_Safe and free._

_I’ll wear a little poppy,_

_As red as red can be,_

_To show that I remember_

_Those who fought for me._

 

 

“Hi,” Jack said, a smile hovering at the edge of his mouth and Eric would not, in any way shape or form, think about that mouth. Uh-uh. “I’m sorry I didn’t send a note. I just thought while I was here…”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure, why don’t you have a seat at the work table there, um, sorry there’s not a lot of big people chairs in a Kindergarten classroom. I’ll, I’ll, um, get Olivia’s portfolio. Olivia, do you want to sit with us and tell your father about your portfolio or do you want to colour, or play…?

 

She looked at her father and then back to Eric. “Sit,” she said.

 

Eric, stomach churning, tried hard not to flap his hands in agitation, grabbed Olivia’s portfolio. Jack had talked about possibly stopping by so he finished putting it together earlier in the week, but still.

 

Plunking himself onto the chair across from the Zimmermanns, he tried not to think how cute Jack looked sitting on a small chair, his knees up high and Olivia practically in his lap. Not quite meeting Jack’s eyes, he looked a bit past his shoulder or down at the portfolio in front of them. Essentially a scrapbook, he opened it and while he explained, drew strength from talking about a safe subject. Not to mention practice for next weeks Interviews. “So, we follow each child a few times a week and take pictures and talk to them about what they’re doing at a centre or what they’re thinking. Some things we let the children publish on our blog when it is their turn to post so you might recognize a few. Others things in the portfolio are examples of writing or drawing or both, and I will add a running record when I sit with a child to see if they are ready to read or are reading and also a list of sight words they know or numbers they recognize, that sort of thing.”

 

While he spoke, Jack and Olivia looked through the pictures in the portfolio, stopping now and then, speaking soft words of _Francais_ to each other. They paused at a drawing she had made. In large letters, mostly uppercase with a few backward, Olivia had printed a sentence underneath.

 

Eric pointed to it and said, “This is what we call ‘kid writing.’ We don’t emphasise at this age a lot of words being spelled correctly. It's important for the students to want to write without being hung up on conventions just yet. We concentrate more on printing letters the right way and beginning to sound out words. I initialled this one, so that means I sat beside her and helped her stretch out the words to see what letter and sounds she knows. As you can see Olivia is doing really well.” The drawing showed Olivia on the playground. She held hands with another child, and they stood in front of the swing set. Both girls had big smiles on their faces, and although they were age appropriate primitive figures, you could sort of see who was who. The sentence underneath read:

 

MIFRENKamekoAnmEPLAontheSWINS.

 

He smiled at Olivia. “Do you want to read this for your Papa?”

 

She nodded, screwed up her brow and pointed to the sentence. “It says me and Kameko are playing on the swings.”

 

“Well done sweet-pea. Can I read it to Papa too?”

 

She nodded. Eric pointed and said, “‘My friend Kameko and me play on the swings.’ You can see she has some great letter and sound going on and her printing is excellent. We will work on…?” He looked at Olivia, wriggled his eyebrows, and she giggled.

 

“Putting finger spaces between the words and not writing with all big letters,” she finished.

 

Eric laughed. “That’s right, but remember Miss Olivia you got some growing to do and you need to leave something for Senior Kindergarten. No, honestly, she’s doing really well. She’s ahead of some of the other children in printing and writing. I haven’t done a formal assessment on reading, but that will come. She knows all of the sight words we’ve talked about so far and a few others, and you can see these words here,” he pointed to the and to on and to Kameko’s name, “she knows to find these on the Word Wall.” He pointed to the wall nearby which held removable cards with the names of the children and some sight words. “And then she brings them over to copy them.”

 

They chatted a bit longer, Eric continuing to watch Olivia or look at the book and not Jack. Olivia told Jack about things she was doing in the photographs and Eric explained the observations and comments he’s written underneath.

 

Jack nodded and asked the occasional question. Eventually, Olivia got bored and went over to the house centre to play.

 

“She seems happy at the end of the day when I get her off of the bus,” Jack said “and she is sleeping better. I think this experience has been perfect for her. She talks about her friends and about her day, and she is more interested in doing things without me right next to her.”

 

Eric nodded, finally engaged with Jack. “It’s hard for her I am sure, the move and her mother.”

 

“Yes. Um, we were already divorced, and I had primary custody, but Livy saw Camellia often.” His eyes welled up, and Eric swallowed, his heart thudded a heavy beat. Now was not the time to bring up any nonsense about Mr. Kent Parson, that’s for sure.

 

“I am so sorry for your loss, Jack.”

 

Jack shook his head. “It happens. It’s been hard, and there’s been a lot of change. We go for counselling both of us together and separately but yeah. It’s okay.”

 

“May I ask how long?”

 

“It will be almost a year, a year in February. I think I may take her out of school then for a couple of weeks and we may go somewhere. I will let you know.”

 

“That isn’t a very long time. I know you want things settled, but I am sure there will be lots of times when either you or she are sad or angry. Please don’t hesitate to spend time with her on those days. If she needs a few days at home, especially around important anniversaries, please feel free to pull her out of school. She isn’t going to miss a whole lot at this age.”

 

Jack smiled, a shadow still on his face. “You are incredibly kind. How did you get to be so understanding?”

 

“Oh, well, I guess that’s what I’m here for.” They stared at each other, neither speaking, but then at the same time:

 

“So, what else…”

 

“Eric, I’m so sorry about…”

 

He waved his hand between the two of them. “I don’t even know where to start. I do think, perhaps now isn’t the time or place to talk about this.” He flapped his hands a bit. “Umm, this is so incredibly awkward.” He could feel a blush deepen and take up residence between his hairline and down his chest. Stupid fair skin and dumb emotions. “I, uh, have a history that perhaps needs to be looked at a little more closely with, um, him, but I don’t think I can talk about that just now.”

 

Jack looked down at his hands and spent a few minutes studying them. “I understand, I guess. I have some experience with what might be going on there. And yes, this is about Olivia and not me right now. I would like to say I really like you and would perhaps like to ask you out sometime, but maybe…”

 

“Maybe not just yet,” Eric finished in a rush.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay. Well, euh, I guess we should go. Thank you so much for talking to me about Olivia. I guess I probably worry too much, but with everything…” He clutched at the back of his neck, and Eric’s heart flipped again.

 

“Yes, okay, well, thank you for stopping by. I, uh, I will see you probably on Saturday. The school is having a Remembrance Day service tomorrow, what with Remembrance Day being on Sunday and all. We invited a few members from the Legion and parents are welcome to come.”

 

“What time?”

 

“It will start around 10:30. We’re having an early Nutrition Break and a delayed recess. The kindergarten classes are all saying a poem called Little Red Poppy. I sent home the sheet in their messenger bags.”

 

“Okay. Thank you. Livy, poulette, it’s time to head out.”

 

“Ouais, Papa, je m’en viens.”

 

Jack shook Eric’s hand, and if there was a slight hesitation in letting go and if, perhaps, one or both of them rubbed their thumb on the back of the other, no one mentioned it.

 

And if, after they left, Eric sat at the worktable and put his head down on his arms and had a small cry, well no saw and that was that.

 

 

oOo

 

November 9th came and went and the Remembrance Day ceremony in the gym was lovely. The Kindergarten classes all said the poem _Little Red Poppy_ and the Grade One classes sang a song about peace and incorporated sign language and there were poems and stories from the other grades. The Grade Eight class ended with a very moving and dramatic reading of In Flanders Fields. A member of the Legion came forward and played Taps at precisely eleven o’clock. After the classes silently came up and laid wreaths in front of the memorial displayed on the stage.

 

Taking the class out for recess, he praised them, especially Karl, for behaving so well in the gym. He posted photos, and a video ‘Ris had taken, so parents who missed it could see plus few pictures of the poppy field on a huge piece of white paper the class had painted to hang in the gym.

 

Friday came to a close, and the kids went home on the bus, and it was the weekend once again.

 

Eric felt disappointed when he didn’t see Olivia or Jack at skating on Saturday, and he spent the rest of the day baking far too much. He went to the Remembrance Day service on Sunday with Chris and Caitlin and had a quiet afternoon and evening cutting out leaves and squirrels for the crafts centre. He wondered where Jack and Olivia had spent Saturday and whether it was better to see them or not and if Jack would drop Olivia off sometime next week.

 

He definitely did not think about Mr. Kent Parson. No sir. Not one bit. Much better to bury that deep, deep down inside and let it fester a bit more.

 

And before he could blink, Monday rolled around and ‘Ris came into the classroom just after Eric, handed him his coffee and said, “So now Remembrance Day is over, and interviews are next week, we will need to start thinking about the December concert.”

 

Eric looked at her. “I am not ready for this. Dear Lord, does it ever stop?”

 

“Nope.”

 

He sighed and pulled up the calendar on his phone. “Erg! We don’t have much time. I assume we will have a meeting with the other teachers about dates and times and all?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And is there usually a theme? And considering we have many students from different cultures and religions, we will talk about representing them as well?”

 

“Yep and yep.”

 

“You are so helpful.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And I want everyone to come over the weekend after Thanksgiving and have supper.” He pulled at his hair a bit.

 

“Breathe.”

 

“Not helping.”

 

‘Ris shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do about this right this minute. Take it one stressor at a time. First thing is Senior Kindergarten Parent and Teacher Interviews next week. Then think about what we want to do for the concert. We can start practicing the last week of November. It doesn't have to be a huge deal. You can ask for people to bring food to Thanksgiving as well.”

 

“But…”

 

“Nope. You are not going to think about it right now, and Shits and I will help out.”

 

He stuck his tongue out but didn’t have time to argue as the bell rang and they could hear the sound of many small feet walking down the hall.

 

Olivia didn’t come to school that day or for the rest of the week. Eric decided on Wednesday, in what he hoped was a casual tone, to ask Mrs. Petersen if she knew where Olivia had disappeared. His iPad attendance showed a capital P (Personal). Mrs. Petersen looked at Eric over the top of her glasses and pulled up the attendance file on her computer.

 

“Hmmm. Mr. Zimmermann phoned the school and left a message saying he and Olivia would be away until the 19th for Personal Family Reasons, but no explanation.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied. Mrs. Petersen’s tone and facial expression let him understand he was on a need to know basis and as long as the office knew and it wasn’t some major communicable disease or a really long vacation, he didn’t need to know. He walked back down to his classroom, and he and ‘Ris tidied and put out materials and books for Thursday. ‘Ris left while he added more examples of student work to the Seniors portfolios. Finally at around six, gathered his things to head out. He drove over to Tim’s for soup and a bun and coffee before heading to the arena for power skating. He had told the head coach he could help with some of the conditioning if the players were interested. The coach certainly seemed pleased. He felt that some of the smaller players could benefit from learning some of the fast skating technique of Eric’s.

 

No sign of Jack, although most of the kids he coached were. He didn’t really expect to see him, but he still felt a sense of disappointment.

 

He didn’t look for Olivia on Saturday at skating, but just as he stepped off of the ice after working with Moira and Amy, to gather up the youngest group, he heard, “Mr. Bitty! Mr. Bitty!” And a small dark-haired figure crashed into him, throwing her arms around him. “I missed you! Did you miss me? We went to see Mamie and Papy. Papy got an award, and we had crepes, and I went to the Biodôme and the Science Centre and…”

 

“Woah, poulette! Let Mr. Bitty breathe!” Jack ruffled his daughter's hair. Eric had hoped that for some reason Jack wouldn’t look as fantastic and handsome as he remembered he would be wrong about that.

 

“Hi, Olivia!” Eric laughed. “We did miss you, but it sounds like you had a very nice visit with your Mamie and Papy?” He didn’t say it quite as crisply as Olivia.

 

Olivia covered her mouth with her hands and giggled.

 

“Olivia! Sois poli.”

 

Olivia, although she stopped giggling, did not look the least bit apologetic. She gave Eric another hug and went out onto the ice where Moira and Amy were waiting with the other senior skaters.

 

“Hi!” Jack said, hands in his pockets.

 

“Hi!” Eric said, trying hard not to let everyone at the rink know he was head-over-heels in love and all of his resolve to not want to date slipped away.

 

“Sorry I didn’t let you know Livy wasn't coming to school. It was sort of last minute, and I felt it might be good for her to see my parents for a few days. Papa was very pleased to have us there.”

 

“He got an award?”

 

“Yes, some award from the city to thank him for all of his charitable works.”

 

“That’s so nice. I hope y’all had a good time.”

 

“We did. I guess I should let you get back out on the ice. I’m holding you up.”

 

“Yes. I guess. Um, well, have a good practice later.”

 

Jack just sort of waved his hand at Eric, who really wanted to put both of his over his face in embarrassment.

 

At the end of the lessons, he made sure everyone found their parents. Olivia happened to be going over to Mrs. Isozaki’s house for launch with Kameko and Siobhan.

 

He said goodbye to the girls and headed out to his car. Checking around the parking lot he saw no one looking his way, he laid his head against the steering wheel and gently banged it a few times before sitting up and backing out of his spot.

 

oOo

Parent Teacher Interviews were Thursday night after school until about 8 pm and all day Friday. No classes on Friday and the only students to come to school were ones the parents or the teacher felt they needed to see. Principal Hall and VP Murray brought in Lasagne and salad for the staff Friday night. It tasted pretty good, but Eric thought he could have made better. He contributed about four pies and three-dozen cookies to assuage some of his guilt. He and ‘Ris only saw eleven families in total.

 

The last meeting happened to be Karl’s parents. They were very supportive, and they discussed further strategies to work on the swearing and impulsivity at home.

 

Mr. Fischer said, “I am so fucking sorry for all of the trouble Karl has caused for you Mr. Bitty. He means well, and he loves the crap out of you. Talks about you all the goddamn day. I’ll try and have another talk with him, but I really don’t know what else the fuck we’re going to do.”

 

Eric decided he needed to grab the bull by the horns.

 

“Mr. Fischer, I really enjoy teaching Karl. He’s bright, and he’s inquisitive. He’s doing really well with his beginning reading, and he loves to write about the farm and trucks and tractors. I find him, um, he likes to, that is, he really copies everything everyone does here at school. If someone makes a tower at blocks, he likes to too. So I wonder if you’ve given any thought as to how maybe Karl is copying his language from someone at home.”

 

Mr. Fischer looked thoughtful and turned to his wife. “You know, I am wondering if perhaps he’s getting it from your father. He swears a blue streak, all of the goddam, fucking time.”

 

Mrs. Fischer looked back and said, “Seriously? You seriously think he gets his swearing from my father? George, I am going to record you one of these days and play it back for you.” She looked back at Eric and ‘Ris. “I do apologize. I promise you, we will have no further swearing at home if it’s the last thing I do. Come along George. We’re these folks up from going home. It was a real pleasure, Mr. Bittle.”

 

After they left. Eric closed the door for a few minutes while he and ‘Ris laughed until tears come to their eyes.

 

“Well,” he said when he got his breath back, “Maybe I should’ve been talking to her all this time. But she works full time, and he’s always at home when I call. Oh, my.”

 

‘Ris just shrugged. “Takes all kinds.”

 

oOo

 

 

Eric looked through his notes from the Primary Division meeting. For the December concert they had picked a simple theme but had included winter, and there would be mentions of all the different celebrations. Eric’s class would work with Kindergarten A, and Kindergarten C and D were teaming up. Ms. Murrow had said she let him come up with whatever he wanted.

 

He looked at the list again. They could do a short poem and a song. The Grade Two class had already picked a poem about winter pyjamas, which was adorable, and they were also going to talk about Hanukkah. Grade Three was doing a retelling of the Night Before Christmas but with Kwanzaa. Chris had partnered his class with Mr. Wick. Usually, the divisions separated but they thought this would be fun.

 

“What about this,” he asked ‘Ris. “We can all hold an empty mug and use whipped cream in it, and we could say this poem.” He showed her one he’d found on Pinterest. “Then at the end, we pretend to sip, but only so we get some of the cream on our noses.”

 

She looked thoughtful. “That could work and then what about that song by Shakira?”

 

“Which?”

 

“ _Try Everything_ from that movie about the animals. The kids could pretty much wear whatever they wanted. We don’t have to do a lot of work for it, and we’ve covered the two themes.”

 

“Sounds good. I’ll get the lyrics, and the poem typed up and sent out to the parents.” He cleared his throat. “I am having everyone over next Saturday as you know, and I am formally asking if you and Shitty would be able to provide some sort of potato dish. I won’t even offer suggestions.”

 

“Aww, look at you, learning to let go and play with others.”

 

He stuck his tongue out.

 

“Who else is coming? Are you inviting a certain lonely father and his daughter?”

 

Eric sighed and put his hands over his face. “I don’t know. I really want to. But there’s just so much. It’s too soon, and we both have history, and we need to talk, and I don’t know.”

 

She looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “Why don’t you offer? See if he even wants to come and then just say you’re not expecting anything and this is just reciprocating or something.”

 

“It’s not that easy.”

 

“It never is.”

 

He nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

 

She left, and he was alone with his thoughts and his work and his lonely, lonely self.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations - sorry over text was being stupid  
> polette- chick
> 
> je m’en viens - I'm coming
> 
> Sois poli - be polite


End file.
